Friday
by SammyMae
Summary: Someone is out to get Vinnie, Grandma may or may not be involved in multiple homicides, Joe is being suspiciously co-operative, and Ranger finds evidence that indicates a Mercenary who make Ranger look like an amateur, may be in town. Who ever said married life was boring? Sequel to Thursday. R/S Established relationship.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Thank you all for the love you showed Thursday! I'm aiming for weekend-ish updates, hope you like Friday! Anything familiar belongs to Janet, any mistakes are all mine.**

I had nobody to blame but myself for the predicament I was facing. There was no way I was escaping this time either. I was in an actual cell, with full surveillance, guards, locks, no chatty egomaniacal villain and no help coming from Ranger.

"I didn't actually say he was going to be there," I said to my guard. "I said that I was willing to bet that his math teacher knew where he was, and there was no harm in us going to ask. If you just let me out..."

"Sorry, but I can't do that; I really like my job. It pays well, and it has full dental. I have three kids with serious orthodontic issues," he said, with a shrug.

"He said there would be cake," I mumbled and sat down on the hard bench/bed thing. I folded my arms across my chest and slumped against the cold cinder block wall.

"Can't speak to that ma'am," he said.

The door to the cell block opened and in strolled my captor. He held out a pink pastry box, and I glared at him. He unlocked the door and put it on the bench beside me and then leaned against the cell door, arms folded, staring impassively at me. I looked down at the box and opened it. I stared silently at the contents, for a minute. If he were anyone else, he probably would have just thought I was taking some time to compose myself, so I didn't yell at him. He knew me better; he knew I was trying not to laugh.

"You're such a jerk," I said, "Did you ask them to write this on the cake?"

"Nope, it was supposed to be picked up yesterday," he said.

"How could you resist?"

"Precisely."

I liked to keep birthday cake in my freezer for emergencies; I usually bought birthday cakes that were commissioned, personalized and then never picked up. This one was covered in little icing roses and had 'Happy Birthday Stanley' written on it. It was just about identical to the one I'd bought him as a get well soon, present. It almost mitigated how pissed off at Ranger I was. Almost. I was pretty fucking pissed off.

"I didn't try to take him down," I said, "I was going to approach a Math teacher at a high school to see if I could get a bead on Gimbal. I am allowed out of the building, and I wasn't going to go without backup. I was even about to call you to see if you were cool with that when your goon squad decided that I needed an intervention. Apparently I have an addiction to free will, and walking under my own power."

"Babe," Ranger said.

"No honestly! I was actually going to call you!" I said. His response was to stare at me, looking like he was thinking about, thinking about smiling. Okay, so I wasn't going to call him because there was absolutely no reason why I couldn't have gone, and we both knew it. I narrowed my eyes at him, in response to his lack of response.

He crooked a finger at me, and I stayed mutinously on the bench. I was really fucking bored. Like really super bored. Like I had nothing to do and if I had to stay at the house one more second I was going to do something stupid, like pull a Brittney and shave my head.

I was persona nongrata in our gated community because it got out that I was investigating everyone in the neighborhood, and several prominent members of our community ended up getting arrested. Our original target had been a bad guy who was into exposing dirty little secrets, and as a result, everyone was afraid that I now knew everything there was to know about them.

We looked at like fifteen people in depth, max. There are around 4000 people living, at least temporarily, in the neighborhood; did they really think that I memorized all of that data in the week we were there? I mean wicked that they think I'm that smart, but it was a pain in the ass not being able to go anywhere without people either angry, or afraid that we were going to out their secrets if they weren't nice to us. Which meant there were a lot of plastic smiles aimed at me, followed by polite, fake reasons why they needed to be anywhere but where I was standing.

Ranger didn't have this issue. One, because he was drop dead sexy and carried a gun. Two, because he was largely behind the scenes, while I was the one ferreting out information under the guise of making friends, and three Ranger was used to people being scared of him, so he could really give a shit.

I started staying in the house and became far too invested in reality tv. When I found myself getting a little too pissed off at the contestants on Chopped, I decided, that maybe it was time to go back to work. I had already tried it once before, but after a couple of days at work, I felt like I had mono, so we decided to give it more time. When I brought up going back to work again, Ranger and I discussed it, and he agreed to see how I handled a week of research and light office work before we discussed getting back to the more strenuous aspects of my job.

Then this morning, Ranger came by my desk and dropped Gimbal's file in my inbox, and said, "There's more going on here than it looks like; look into it. I'm out of the office today; if you want help with it, talk to Bulldog, and he'll hook you up."

A couple of hours later, I had a lead, and when I couldn't get the teacher on the phone, I suggested to my cube mate, Jack, that it might be a good idea to swing by the school to question the teacher before we picked up lunch. That's when I found myself in my current predicament, and a little hangry if I'm honest. If we were at home, I probably wouldn't be in this mess, and if I were, I'd probably have an accomplice in here with me. I was really, really starting to hate Florida.

"Give me the truck, I'll drive back to Trenton and round up bad guys on my own turf," I groused.

"The doctor said one more week, and you were cleared to fly again," he said. My recent brush with what was apparently borderline severe hypoxia had the doctors reluctant to let me in a pressurized aircraft until they were certain I was fully recovered.

"Come get me in a week then," I mumbled and flopped down on the bench, "Just be a dear and see to it that there's peanut butter with my bread and water." Okay, so the dramatics were a bit much. I'll admit that, but honestly, if I didn't do that, I was probably going to cry out of pure frustration, and I was too pissed off to let myself do that.

"No bread and water. Too many carbs not enough protein," Ranger said. He walked all the way into the cell and crouched down beside me, "You're looking pretty crazy, Babe."

"Of course I am!" I yelled, the effect was maybe lost by the fact that I was lying on my back, "You had your men lock me in a cell, because I wanted to go to a high school, in a good neighborhood, to speak to a fucking Math teacher! A Math teacher with no criminal record, no suspected history of violence, no registered weapons, no firearms training, he's never even taken a self-defence class at the Y! He volunteers at an animal shelter rehabbing injured kittens! Tell me how the hell was I in any danger?"

"I'd be very surprised if you were," he said.

"Seriously, it's my job to go after guys who are a hell of a lot more dangerous than this guy. Sure, yeah there's a tiny chance I'd be at risk, but I was going to go with back up! That wasn't a lie; I really was."

"I know."

"Just because we're married doesn't mean I'm going to stop working. The doctor said I couldn't fly or go scuba diving, but otherwise, I was cleared to do everything else, so why the fuck can't I do my job?"

"You can do your job; I wouldn't have given you Gimbal if I didn't think you could handle him. I only threatened you with incarceration a couple of weeks ago because you were still getting winded walking from the pool to the kitchen. In top form, you couldn't handle the three men in those files, on your own,"

"Ranger, like three days later I was the one to put the fucking cuffs on Jankowitz!" Big money skip, more or less thought of as a lost cause, I figured out where he was, semi-accidentally, and we brought him in, on our wedding day. I swung my legs back over the side of the bunk and sat up.

"I was there."

"Then you're going to have to help me out here, because if I could participate in that take down, and I can handle Gimbal, and you're cool with me working, WHY THE FUCK AM I DOWN HERE!?"

"Because I didn't think to rescind the order, since I never actually made it to anyone but you, in private, in my office. One of my men, and I'll find out which one, overheard the conversation and they decided that I was serious. They got it into their heads that I would do something so asinine as lock my wife in a jail cell after I've brought her in on many, much more challenging, cases in the past."

"You've locked me up before Ranger," I said and folded my arms across my chest.

"There was a hit man out to kill you; it was my apartment; not a cell, and I left you the keys to my car," he said. "If I were serious about keeping you in the building against your will, you wouldn't have made it out of the garage, and, because you're wiley, I'd have had you sedated."

"Did you just use the word 'wiley'?" I asked, half laughing and he winked, "Didn't they call you to tell you I was down here?"

"They left a message a couple of hours ago, my phone was off," he said, "I didn't get it until half an hour ago."

"So why didn't you spring me when you picked it up?"

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone and handed it to me. I went to turn it on and got the dead battery symbol. My mouth dropped open, and I stared back up at him, in utter shock, "How does this even happen to you? This thing gets charged every night, and you plug it in, whenever you get in the car."

" _Somebody_ kicked the docking station last night, and the cord came partially dislodged from the wall. The phone was at 30% when I left the house this morning, and I haven't been in the car for more than ten minutes at a time today."

"Oh no, don't go blaming me for that. You were the one who put me in that position in the first place because you wanted to get all creative."

"If I were blaming you for it, there wouldn't be cake right now."

"I'm still pissed."

"I'll redirect you to the cake, and there's something else," He walked to the edge of the cell and looked at my guard. "Go."

He didn't bark the order. It was said in a quiet, even tone. It was kind of like when you did something wrong as a kid and instead of your mom yelling at you, she calmly told you to go to your room. That's when you knew you'd really fucked up, and just accepted that you were probably grounded for the next year.

Ranger waited until he was gone and pointed his fob at the security cameras, scrambling the feed.

"Before I came down here, I took five minutes to call Lester. He's getting on a plane later today, he's bringing Hal and Cal back with him, and between them, they are coming up with a revenge plan."

Okay, Ranger was forgiven. 100%, not even mad at him anymore. It wasn't his fault, he was apologizing (with cake) for not springing me the second he found out I was in jail, and he was strongly encouraging revenge on the Miami Men. Yeah, I was good.

"You're really good at sucking up," I said, "I never knew that about you."

"If you're going to bother doing something, be the best at it," He said, and I laughed. He clicked the security cameras back on, "Let's go talk to your Math teacher."

"You're coming with me? I know you're busy Ranger, I can take one of the men. I'm sure right now they're all going to be bending over backwards to be super helpful," I said.

"I don't think they are prepared for you yet," Ranger said.

"Why? because I'm Calamity Jane?" I asked.

"No, because they are upstairs shitting themselves over what my reaction to their stupidity is going to be when you're the one they need to worry about," he said.

We took the elevator up to the fifth floor and stepped out. "Boss, we…" One of the men started, and Ranger glared them all into silence. I followed Ranger into his office and sat down at his desk where I pulled up my information on James Gimbal. Ranger looked at it over my shoulder.

Gimbal was 18, from a middle-class neighborhood, not unlike the Burg but without the aging wiseguys. His parents went through a nasty separation, and during that time, he went a bit off the rails. His Math teacher brought him back in line by getting him big into computer programming. His parents reconciled after about a year apart, but Gimbal moved out of the house and got a place in Hialeah. A few months ago he moved from there, to a Condo in Palmetto Bay. He told his parents that his sudden change in fortune was due to a new job. In reality, it turned out he had some 'backers' helping him finance the development of an App that allowed him to control the slots at any Casino.

He did well with it until he decided, like all teenagers, that he knew everything, went against his backers' instructions and did something stupid. Rather than gradually win oodles of money under the radar at the casino, he would go for the Jackpot three times in one night, and got himself caught. Getting caught turned out to be a not so good thing for Gimbal on many levels, but mainly on the scary-Russian-Mafia-is-pissed-about-losing-their little-cash-cow, level.

The best thing for him would be to come back in and make a deal, because really, there were bigger fish to fry than an 18-year-old punk with no priors, who was just looking to walk on the wild side a little. He put his car up as collateral for his bail and then he promptly disappeared. I didn't really blame him; if I were a freaked out teenager, with the mob after me, I'd be doing a disappearing act too.

My thought was maybe he was hiding with a friend from school, and the person who would most likely know who that might be would be the Math teacher.

"The teacher's name is Phillip Robarts," I said, "He's fifty-four, and I was going to try to find his picture on the faculty website when the goon squad locked me up."

I found his picture; he was about as harmless looking as I expected him to be. He had a round pink face, friendly smile, big brown eyes behind little wire glasses, and in his bio, it said that in addition to being a youth councilor, he was a Disney Golden Apple recipient because he was such an amazing teacher.

I folded my arms on the desk and looked at Ranger, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"It's either that, or stay here and take half of my men to the mats, and right now that would be a bad idea," he said.

"Are you pissed?"

"Pissed doesn't begin to cover it," Ranger said.

"Oookay then," I said.

The drive to the school took about twenty minutes, and we pulled into the lot just as the final bell rang. Ranger found a spot at the back; there were spaces closer to the school, but we were in the truck, and it didn't exactly fit in most spaces, Ranger's Porsche was not exactly low key, and we didn't want to draw more attention than Ranger was already likely to. I was wearing a pair of cut-off shorts and a girly t-shirt.

Ranger was going to be attracting attention because he was dressed like it was entirely possible that once he finished with what we had to do, he was going to go out for a quick bite and then to maybe topple a dictatorship for dessert. In other words, he was more heavily armed than usual, "Where were you before anyway?"

"I told you, I was in a meeting," he said.

"With who? Deadpool?" I said.

"Deadpool is Marvel; we're DC," Ranger said. I giggle snorted and half stumbled as I got out of the truck. Ranger came around to my side of the vehicle and unlocked the drawer under the seat and stashed two of his four _visible_ guns. "Are you armed?"

"No, why would I be? We're going to talk to a Math teacher. Look at this place; there aren't even metal detectors on doors."

He pulled a .22 from the armory and shoved it in the back of my shorts. "Ranger!" I said.

"Something doesn't feel right," he said. I looked around to see what had put him on alert. There was a cheerleading practice going on and some kids were running track. Everyone else was hanging out on or in their cars, or smoking under the bleachers; it was high school. Sure, high school was no cakewalk, but it wasn't exactly a war zone. Then again, Ranger and I had vastly different scholastic experiences; maybe he was having a flashback to that.

We went in through the main doors and asked directions to Mr. Robarts office. The school's secretary, introduced herself as Anne Needham, and offered to take us directly to him. The school was very modern, all of the classrooms were equipped with smart boards, and the desks in the classrooms were all set up to accept laptops. I commented on this too Mrs. Needham.

"Oh yes; this is all brand new. This class will be the first class to graduate from this new facility. You see our old building was becoming dangerous, and they found mold and asbestos in the parts of it, major cracks in the foundation, basically it was a mess, and it was decided that it would be cheaper to just build a new structure than to try and repair what we had. So we were given the funding to build from the ground up, and then some alumni pitched in and decided to make it as modern as we could."

She led us up a flight of stairs and knocked on a classroom door. "Hello Mr. Robarts, you have visitors."

"Oh come in!" he said, standing as we entered the classroom so he could shake our hands. He looked exactly like his picture, his smile pleasant and almost effusive, "I thought I knew all of my students' parents, but there are a lot of them; it's possible that I've missed a couple."

"They wish to speak to you about Lonnie," Anne said.

"Ahh, I see," He said, "Thank you Anne; I'll see them out when we're through."

She left and closed the door behind her.

"My name is Stephanie Manoso; this is Ranger. We represent Mr. Gimbals bondsman, Ben Brisbane," I said, "We were wondering if you might be able to answer some questions?"

"Of course, of course," he said, "Would you mind if we didn't do it in here, though? I would like to keep the vibe in here pretty relaxed, and this is such a horrible business, I feel like it would taint the place."

"Sure, I'm okay with that," I said. Ranger didn't say anything. Robarts put some papers he needed to grade into his briefcase and we followed him out of the classroom.

"There's a nice picnic area just beyond the parking lot, that should be free of students by now," he said as he took us through the school, "This new facility is exceptional. It's been up and running for a year and already the number of kids applying to, and getting accepted by colleges is up from sixty percent to almost ninety. The number of students applying to colleges in the Sciences is up from ten percent to forty."

"What about the students who can't afford a laptop?" I asked.

"One of our students has a father who owns a chain of electronic stores," he said. "In September each student was offered the laptops at less than wholesale cost, and those who couldn't afford it, had their's donated. You cannot hope to be successful in this day and age without access to computers. This way we don't have to worry about the cost of maintaining a computer lab, and for our seniors, it's something they can take with them to University."

"You have very generous alumni," Ranger said, "I was under the impression that the students who come to this school are largely from middle class families. I didn't realize there was this sort of wealth."

"We have a very talented developments office," Robarts said, "And of course our steering committee is top notch."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this goes above and beyond what is normal for public school fundraising?" I asked.

"Truthfully I don't know," he said, "I started working here when I was fresh out of teacher's college, so I have no frame of reference. I've seen this school through some not so good times, and now the school is at its pinnacle."

We got to the parking lot, and he pointed to a wood paneled PT Cruiser, parked away from now nearly empty lot. "That's me, let me just put my things in the back and I'll meet you two over at those tables."

He gestured toward some picnic tables underneath some trees. He was right, it was the one area of the school yard that wasn't occupied by high school kids. Ranger and I were about half way to the tables when there was a familiar click, and then Ranger was shoving me hard to the left. My knees scraped across the ground, and I scuffed my hands and knees on the pavement as I made impact. That was the least of our problems, though, because there was the thunderous rapid report of what I could only assume was an enormous machine gun.

Ranger had jumped for cover in the opposite direction and was taking shelter behind another truck. He motioned for me to stay low and to head towards our truck. I did as ordered and caught sight of the trees and the picnic table, which appeared to now be on fire. Holy shit was whoever was shooting at us, using tracer rounds? Not only that but whatever it was that he was using was a large enough caliber that one of the rounds blasted a hole through part of the metal picnic table frame.

I looked for Ranger, and of course, there was no way I was going to see him. He'd turned himself into smoke. I climbed into the truck and radioed Rangeman, to let them know we were under fire and got them to co-ordinate with Miami-Dade. That done, with a break in the firing, I chanced a peek out of the window, and nearly froze in shock. Robarts was standing on the frame of his car, with a fifty cal machine gun on the roof of his PT Cruiser, and he was reloading.

I relayed the information to Rangeman over the radio, "Are you sure it's a fifty cal?" Bulldog asked incredulously.

"Oh yeah," I said.

"No offense Mrs. R, but.."

"Oh for fuck sake, hang on," I grumbled and used my phone to take a video of Robarts as he resumed fire with his gun, getting a clear shot of the tripod mounted gun. I caught a glimpse of Ranger behind Robarts. I sent the video to Bulldog and then watched as Ranger approached. The gun fire stopped again, and it looked like Robarts was waiting to see if we'd come out from under our cover. Ranger was too far away to intercept Robarts, and Ranger must have wanted to take him down without killing him, or he'd already be dead. There was no way he was going to be able to do this, without coming out into the open, and unless Robarts' attention was elsewhere, Ranger was going to be a sitting duck.

I pulled out my phone and sent Ranger a text.

Going to distract him-S

Don't get shot. I've grown attached. -R

I took a deep breath, and staying crouched down, I started the truck and slammed it into reverse, backing out of the space, cranking the wheel as I did. I threw it into gear and slammed on the gas creating a moving target for the Robarts. He started firing again but managed to miss the massive quad cab truck and nailed an empty POS Ford instead. The interior of the Ford caught fire and lit up like a Christmas tree.

I didn't want him to start shooting in the direction of the students' so I really wanted Ranger to stop him before I came to the opposite side of the lot and had to turn around. The gunfire stopped, and I looked over to see Robarts on the ground being cuffed by Ranger, and then looked back at the car that was on fire. Yeah, that was going to blow up any second, I drove the truck to use it as a shield to protect Ranger and Robarts from the blast and then scrambled out of the passenger side of the truck and onto the ground next to Robarts.

"Hey," I said, leaning forward to look around Robarts, "How's it going?"

"You're bleeding," Ranger said. I looked down at my hands and knees. I was bleeding, and there were little bits of gravel in the scrapes on my knees. They would sting like a bitch later when I cleaned them up.

"I've had worse," I said, "And on the bright side, I'm relatively clean, and my clothes don't need to be thrown out. I'm calling it a win."

Then there was a loud BARRROOOOOOMMM as the Ford exploded, taking out the cars on either side of it. We were both far too experienced with car explosions to get up just yet as we waited for the secondary explosion. Robarts however went to stand up to gawk, Ranger and I each grabbed him by the back of the pants and yanked him back down, just in time for the next Barrrooom, the sound of screaming metal and then a loud crash. It was followed by the sounds of sirens filling the lot, and the whop whop whop of a news helicopter flying overhead.

Ranger hauled Robarts to his feet, then helped me to mine. I whistled as I looked around the lot. The car carnage was impressive, they were a twisted pile of dead car, sort of all fused together in one massive ball of fire. The parking lot, that had been pretty much empty, was filling rapidly with police cars, ambulances, and news vehicles.

"So, when we get back, I'll just go ahead and lock myself in the basement," I said.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Whew! I've been busy today! Family Matters is done, and here is Chapter 2 of Friday! Thank you all for your reviews! And especially all of the love you continue to show Thursday! To my fellow Canadians, Happy Thanksgiving! As usual, I wish anything familiar belonged to me, but alas it doesn't.**

We got back to Rangeman a little after 9 pm. Once Robarts started talking, he wouldn't shut up. According to him, the school board was initially willing to fund the construction of the new school, but budget cuts made it so they were more inclined to shut the school down entirely, redistributing the students to other schools in the area. Robarts, nearing the end of his teaching career, was going to be forced into an early retirement he couldn't afford, so he took matters into his own hands and began to look for alternative funding.

That's when he discovered that one of his students had significant ties to the Russian mafia. He also knew that he had a programming prodigy in Lonnie Gimbal. So he called a parent-teacher interview with the Russian Mob guy, and together they came up with the scheme. If the Russians funded the construction of the new school, he would use the vulnerable Lonnie Gimbal to write whatever programs they wanted him to. Every time they came to Gimbal with a request, be it getting around security systems, hacking into company websites, or whatever, Robarts told him that it was just an exercise. When Gimbal caught on to their scheme, he took off. Lonnie hadn't move out of his parents' house because he was pissed at them, but rather to get away from Robarts.

Gimbal made his money legitimately for a while, working in an IT department for a small accounting firm, while he started a small contract based company, building websites and custom programs for other small businesses. It was then that he was approached directly by the men Robarts had been working with and they posed as legitimate backers for his business. They waited until he had established himself before they revealed who they were and coerced him into writing the program.

His stupidity at the casino wasn't stupidity at all; it was his way of exposing that the program existed. He figured if he went to jail, he would be safer than he was on the street, and what they were going to make him do next, could land him in prison for a long time. His aunt posted his bail without his permission, and within two days of his release, he was taken from her house. At the time of Robarts' interrogation, Gimbal was locked in a basement, in front of a bank of computer monitors, attempting to hack his way into the Federal Reserve. Robarts knew this was beyond Gimbal, and that the kid was on borrowed time if he was still alive at all.

The reason Robarts opened fire on us, was that unbeknownst to his Russian friends, after Lonnie's disappearance, Robarts sold the program to the Italians and Columbians. Gimbal's stunt at the Casino had exploited a weakness in the programming of the machines. It had since been corrected, rendering the program useless, and Robarts associates, were less than pleased. He saw my gun, and took one look at Ranger, and thought that we were sent by those factions, to either get our money back or whack him.

Rangeman and the FBI raided the house where Gimbal was being held and rescued the kid, who had the charges against him dropped, considering he was acting under duress. The Feds were currently torn between putting him in Witness Relocation, and recruiting him.

When they were done with us, we dropped off our papers with Florida Vinnie and went back to Rangeman. We bypassed the office and went straight up to our place and into the kitchen for a late supper.

"You know what I wish?" I said as I sat on the counter eating a peanut butter and olive sandwich. Ranger acknowledged my question with a glance in my direction as he put together a sandwich that looked like it consisted mostly of alfalfa sprouts and a slice of portobello mushroom, dry bread and no cheese of any kind. "I wish we had badges. Like real official badges. That way people didn't just shoot at us for no damn reason."

"Badges are overrated; they come with too many rules," he said. He looked at my knees and put his plate down on the counter. He walked over to me and shifted me to the right so he could gain access to the cupboard underneath my perch. He retrieved a first aid kit and went about cleaning up my scraped knees. When he finished, I had two band-aids over the worst of the cuts.

"I look like a little kid," I said as he gave my palms the same treatment he gave my knees.  
"No," he chuckled, "You really, really don't."

"Don't tell me this is turning you on," I laughed.

"Not this," he said, then he kissed one of my palms. While still holding my right hand in his left, his right skated up the inside of my thighs before slipping under the hem of my shorts, "These, I really like these."

I've been living with Ranger for about a couple of little while now, and it's been an education. First of all, I know that pretty much anything that shows off my legs gets a big thumbs up from the man in black. Second, he's turned on by the most random things. For example, he actually really enjoys my hair when it's scary, not because it's attractive, but because it means he's probably the reason it's bad, and it gets him thinking about what he could do to make it worse. All men like it when their women wander around in one of their shirts, Ranger is no exception, but he also likes it when I borrow his socks. I don't mean he likes it when I wander around in his t-shirt and his socks and that's it. I mean, I when I wear his socks under jeans or something. This one's a weird one because he doesn't even know why it turns him on; it just does.

Ranger's biggest turn on, however, is simple; it's adrenaline. Not his, mine; he loves seeing me in action. I think because it reminds him that I get him. "Tell me something, Batman," I said, "When did you realize Robarts was an asshat?"

"An asshat?" he chuckled.

"You heard me," I said.

"The school was too nice for a public school, and according to the website, he was the leader of the steering committee," he said.

"For me, it was the fifty cal; I mean that was a dead giveaway," I said, "Also, way overkill; where the hell does a math teacher get a fifty cal?"

"Same way Lula got a rocket launcher," Ranger said, "And both had the same proficiency with their weapons."

"What? Couldn't hit the broadside of a barn?" I said.

"Pretty much," he said. He pushed my knees apart so he could stand between my legs and yanked on my legs, so I was pulled forward on the counter and pressing up against him.

He was done talking and kissed me. My t-shirt and bra vanished pretty quickly, as did his shirt. His hands were working the fly of my shorts when there was a soft beep, indicating that somebody was coming into the apartment. Ranger drew his gun and pointed it at the door; the door opened, and my former guard came in with the cake box. He carefully put it down on the floor and backed out, his hands raised. I'm pretty sure he was going to spread the word that the boss was busy.

"That will teach him for not knocking," I said, "Take me to bed, Ranger."

"Why? When we have a perfectly serviceable countertop."

I guess why not; it's not like either of us ever actually cooked in the kitchen, and I suppose we'd eventually make it to the bedroom.

The next morning I was sitting at Ranger's desk, playing secretary and answering his phones for him while he was in a meeting. When I wasn't doing that, I was filling out the endless forms that went along with Ranger's life. After letting me know that he was aware of my ability to forge his handwriting, he often had me do the more mundane parts of the paperwork. He'd fill in anything I wasn't cleared to know, and while I could forge his signature with a degree of accuracy, he always signed everything himself after reading through the pages to make sure I hadn't made any mistakes. Paperwork was my primary function here in Florida, for now anyway. Like Trenton, Rangeman didn't accept any low to medium bonds; it wasn't worth the money or the manpower. He was considering, expanding the private investigations division, and if he did, he was going to hand most of those contracts over to me, since that's what I was good at anyway.

I finished the last of the paperwork with a flourish and put it back in the organized stacks Ranger kept on the credenza in his office when my cell phone rang. I looked down at the number, somewhat surprised to see my mother's name on the screen. I wasn't really expecting her to start speaking to me again until I got back to Trenton. When I called to tell her that Ranger and I were married, she said she was too angry with me for lying to her to talk to me on the phone.

Okay so maybe we eloped and maybe before I came to Florida I told her I was only pretending to be engaged to Ranger. Technically that wasn't a lie either; it was a fake engagement. We just decided that since we both wanted it to be real, it might as well be, and got married at the second available opportunity, the first being fucked up by the fact that I spent our first wedding day locked in a humidor.

I answered the phone with a bit of trepidation, "Hello?"

"Stephanie, it's your mother," Mom said. You know, like after hearing her speak to me for thirty odd years, I wouldn't recognize her voice.

"Hi, mom, what's up?"

"Are you ever coming home?"

"As soon as the doctor gives me the thumbs up, I'm on a plane to Trenton. Ranger said he had to go home sometime this week; if I can fly without developing the bends, I'll be coming back with him. Why?"

"Well can't you take the train or something?" she asked.

Here's the deal with my mom, I love her dearly, and I know she loves me, but our telephone conversations follow a specific formula, because otherwise, they are excruciatingly awkward. She and I make small talk for a few minutes and then get down to the purpose of the call, and maybe make a little more small talk afterward. She didn't call to chat or tell me she missed me. She called Val if she just felt like chatting; if mom wanted just to talk to me, it had to be in her kitchen. She couldn't do it over the phone; she said it was because she couldn't read my voice on the phone but my face was an open book. So we stuck to our formula, and it worked for us. For her to mess with the established program could only mean something was wrong.

"Mom, is everything okay? Has something happened to dad?" I asked.

"No, it's your grandmother," she said, "She's missing again."

The last time I'd spoken with grandma, she was in Vegas with a friend of hers. She was going to be there for a week and then they were going to road trip back on the bus. She was supposed to be checking in with my mom every time they stopped at a hotel. I assumed that since I haven't heard otherwise, she was home.

"Tell me everything; I can probably figure out where she is, and if I can, I'll have Lula or Sally go pick her up," I said.

"Well, she and her friend decided to stay an extra week in Nevada," mom said.

"Why?"

"Because while they were there, they got word about an all male magician's convention taking place at Cesar's Palace. Hazel Matzen won tickets for it and a suite while playing the penny slots at Circus Circus. They were very excited about one performer, Michael something."

Oh. Dear. God. "Are you sure it was a magician's convention?"

"I'm certain," mom said.

"Did she tell you something about Magic Mike?" I asked, trying hard not to laugh.

"Yes, that was it! Have you heard of him?"

"Mom, Magic Mike is a movie about male strippers," I said. There was silence on her end and then the sound of a cupboard door slamming hard and then my mother did something I had never heard. She dropped an F-Bomb.

"First you elope after telling me that you weren't going to marry him, and now this! When did it become acceptable practice to lie to me? When, Stephanie!?"

Ummm since always? I thought. I wouldn't dare say that out loud, though; I didn't have a death wish. "Mom, I didn't lie to you. When we left, it was just a fake engagement. We just realized after a couple of days that neither of us were all that excited about me giving the ring back after the job was over. So we made it real and decided not to wait."

Also, since even the mention of a big wedding caused me to have panic induced blackouts, we thought it would be best just to elope. Mom didn't need to know that either; she'd want to know why I had these episodes and I'd have to tell her it is due in large part to our batshit crazy family and did I mention I don't have a death wish?

"How can I believe you?" she asked.

I thunked my head down on Ranger's desk. "Mom, Grandma…" I said. I thought it best to remind her of the reason she called before she decided to start yelling at me again.

"They were on their way back here, she was checking in regularly, and I was expecting her back any day now, so I wasn't concerned. Then the day before yesterday I saw Hazel in the supermarket. When I asked her where my mother was, she said it was a surprise, and she said she promised not to say a word. Well, I called mother right away, and all I got was her voicemail. I spoke to Hazel again today, and she said that maybe I should start to worry because mother should be back by now. She still wouldn't tell me what was going on, just in case mother was late, but I don't know what to do."

The words Grandma and surprise were not always the best combination. If I were mom, I'd be developing an eye twitch too. My mind went immediately to, plastic surgery, like having her lips plumped or getting fake boobs. Or she joined a circus act.

"Okay mom, I'll see what I can do from my end here, and if I can't find her, I'll come right home. If I have to take a train that's what I'll do," I said.

"Thank you, Stephanie," she said, "I'm sorry." the last bit was said in a rush, and then she hung up. Sorry about what? I shook my head and dialed grandma's cell. It wasn't dead; it rang eleven times before going to voicemail. I left a message and then I used Ranger's computer to look up the number and called Hazel.

"Hey, it's Stephanie; Edna's granddaughter," I said when she picked up.

"Hello, Stephanie! I was just saying to Edna the other day that I don't think you and I have spoken since you were in high school and worked at the bakery," she said. I like Hazel. She reminds me a lot of my grandmother. They had both discovered that with widowhood, there was freedom, and they both decided to let loose. Her granddaughter, Lisa, was one of the few people in Trenton, who didn't cringe when my grandma went to a funeral. Her face would fill with a combination of commiseration and then sudden blind panic because there was double the chance of catastrophe with both Hazel and grandma in the room. If Hazel didn't cough up the secret, I'd call Lisa, and get her to ferret out the info.

"No, I guess that's probably right," I said, "Listen, I don't mean to be pushy, but what's up with grandma? We're getting pretty worried here."

"Oh I promised not to say," she said hesitantly. It was obvious she was dying to tell someone. She just needed a little push or a convenient excuse, and she'd spill the beans.

"You promised not to tell mom right? Did she say anything about not telling me?" I asked.

"Well no, I guess not," She said.

"Tell me, and I won't tell mom unless I have to," I said.

"Okay," she said, "I guess that will be all right. You promise to act surprised though when Edna gets back? Just in case I wasn't supposed to tell you too."

I crossed my fingers, "Absolutely."

She spoke, at length for about ten minutes and when she finished, I was too stunned to say anything for so long she thought we'd been disconnected, and she hung up on me.

Ranger found me staring at my phone in horror, "Did they stop production of Tasty Cakes or something?" he asked.

I looked up at him; my eyes stuck in the wide open position. The shock had blown the fuse that controlled my ability to blink. I couldn't even begin to think about processing that information on my own, so I just blurted everything out.

"My grandmother married a male stripper named Merlin the Big Wand, in Las Vegas. He is a member of a traveling show called, Thunder in the Desert and they are supposed to be in Newark this week. Grandma was supposed to be traveling with the show. She was going to get mom to have everyone over for dinner last night, and she was going to surprise everyone with her announcement by bringing Merlin to dinner last night. Obviously, that didn't happen because mom just called me to say Grandma was missing."

Ranger looked like he needed a moment to digest that information as well.

"I mean, go Grandma and everything, but what if she lied to him to make him think she's got money and he's pissed that she doesn't, and she's missing because she's in a ditch somewhere? Or what if she's died of a heart attack or something and he hasn't called us because he doesn't know how to get in touch with us? Grandma is old and, these strippers are in their twenties, I don't think she could keep up…"

"I'm not comfortable with the whole concept of a twenty-something man, who has women throwing themselves at him on a constant basis, picking Edna out of the crowd," Ranger said.

"Tell me you're tracking Grandma," I said.

"Babe, I'm just not that brave," Ranger said.

He kissed my forehead and pulled the chair out from the desk, and out of his way. He bent over the keyboard, pulled up a program and punched in grandma's cell phone number.

"Call her cell again; let it go to Voicemail and leave it while the computer traces the call," Ranger said. I hit the speed dial for grandma, and as soon as it picked up, the signal started doing its thing. It took about a minute for the call to triangulate. Ranger zoomed in on the map and reached for his desk phone. Without looking, he punched in a phone number.

"I'm looking for Detective Prewitt, tell him it's Ranger," he said, and waited, "Why do you have Edna Mazer's cell phone in your evidence locker?…Has she been arraigned?...Then why the hell is she still in lockup? Yeah, she's my wife's grandmother, so put her in an office and get her out of the cell until Vinnie gets there. Who's on the case? Well of course he is… No promises."

Grandma was under arrest? For what? And how long has she been in jail? Millions of scenarios began playing out in my mind; none of them good, as Ranger hung up the phone and dialed Vinnie.

"Edna is in lockup in Princeton, you're posting her bail out of the goodness of your heart, and then you are taking her home. You will call me when you're finished." He didn't bother waiting for a reply, he just hung up and began punching in another number. "Stephanie needs to see the doctor, here, as soon as possible. We have to leave for New Jersey immediately and I want to know if she can fly."

Ranger turned to look at me. He was the picture of calm, perfectly composed. He was always perfectly composed; which was a good thing, because I was about to make a caffeinated squirrel look mellow.

"What's going on?" I asked, my voice higher than usual, as I tried to rein in my panic.

"Your grandmother has been arrested for carrying concealed, in Princeton. She's been granted bail, but has been unable to contact anyone because she can't remember anybody's phone number and her phone is evidence."

"Mom and dad have had the same phone number since they moved into the house five years before I was born. How the hell doesn't she know mom's phone number?"

"Apparently, she keeps trying to call the house but she has to call collect and whoever is answering isn't accepting the charges."

"Dammit, mom!" I yelled. She steadfastly refused to accept collect calls. For some reason, she got it into her head, that only disreputable people ever call collect, so she hangs up before the operator even finishes saying, that there's a call. I snatched my phone to call her, and Ranger took my hand and put the phone down.

"I wasn't finished," he said, "It gets worse."

"What could be worse than grandma spending time in jail because my mom hangs up on all collect callers? And why didn't they let her look a number up on her phone?" I demanded.

"A week ago, your grandmother was in a drug store buying condoms, a detail I wish I didn't have, when a beat cop on his break, spotted her gun in her purse as she pulled out her wallet. He asked to see her permits, and when she didn't have them, she was taken into custody. If she were in Trenton, he would have looked the other way, but they weren't. It was apparent the gun was fired recently, and when they got around to running the preliminary ballistics, they popped in the system as matching a recent murder in Trenton, of a man named Arthur Wylitt, who I'm willing to bet, is her new husband. Since she is in possession of the murder weapon, the detective in charge of her case, has told them, that she is the prime suspect at this time, so they aren't exactly bending over backward to help her post bail, while they gather enough evidence for a murder charge."

"Who is the Detective?" I asked, feelings of dread and anger drilling a pit in my stomach, I already knew the answer.

"Morelli," Ranger said. It took every ounce of my limited self-control, not to throw my coffee cup at the wall, as the prologue to an epic conniption fit.

"I'm going to kill him, and you're going to help me," I said, slowly, "In fact, I shouldn't have stopped you when he came down here. The mangrove forests are a damned convenient thing to have if you want to dispose of a cop's body."

"Babe, we don't need a Mangrove forest," Ranger said. I punched Morelli's number into the phone with enough force that I was mildly impressed that my manicure held up against the touch screen, and I didn't break a nail.

Morelli picked up on the second ring, "Listen Cupcake; I can't help with whatever you're into right now. I'm in the middle of a double homicide; I'll call you back when I go to get dinner."

"No, I think you're going to talk to me right fucking now you arrogant fucking prick!" I yelled into the phone. Way to keep it cool Stephanie, "Your grandmother shot at me, multiple times, in broad daylight, in front of witnesses, in full view of a Rangeman security camera, and I'm positive that Ranger still has the footage. Now did I press charges? No, I didn't press charges. I called you and looked the other fucking way. Well, you know what? Fuck you and Bella. That's attempted murder, and there's no goddamned statute. You want to be pissed at me for marrying Ranger; you go right ahead, but this? Well, guess what, you've got a war on your hands now, you petty, vindictive prick, and I'm going to kick your fucking ass."

"Whoa! What the hell is going on here?" Morelli said, alarmed.

"My grandmother?!" I yelled back, "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

"What about her?" He sounded confused now, and I didn't like that.

"You asked them to hold her in Princeton! My grandmother! She's a million fucking years old and probably scared, and you know how my mother feels about collect calls. Jesus Christ Morelli! Like Jesus Christ!"

"I'm not asking anyone to hold your grandmother in Princeton," he said, "The only person I've spoken to Princeton about is an Edna Wylitt, and she's the wife of my murder victim."

"You mean to tell me that you didn't recognize her from her mugshot," I scoffed.

"No," he said, "I'm saying, they just called me about her an hour ago, while I was in with the Medical Examiner, for the preliminary autopsy. I just got back, and I haven't opened my email yet to read her case file. I'm telling you Stephanie; someone is jerking your chain."

"Open your fucking email."

"Hang on," He sighed. Three seconds later there was a lot of cursing in multiple languages, not just Italian and English, but a few others while he was at it. I would have been impressed if I wasn't so pissed off about grandma.

"I didn't know," Morelli said when he got back on the phone, "I'll make some calls and get her out of lock up."

"Ranger's already taken care of it," I snapped, "Keep me in the fucking loop Morelli; we're coming home."

"Cupcake," he started, "I can't…"

"No, it's my grandmother, you're not pulling this shit on me, this time, Morelli," I said, "And don't even think about charging her without bullet proof evidence." I hung up.

"I gather we're putting the killing on hold?" Ranger said.

"If I can't fly home, we're taking a train, or we're driving, and we're getting there as fast as we can," I said.

"If you can't fly, I can get you home in about twelve hours if I ignore speed limits. Sooner if necessary," he said. He leaned against his desk and pulled me to my feet and then into a tight hug, "It'll be okay, Steph."

 _AN: So Steph's revenge is obviously on hold, but it is coming._


	3. Chapter 3

_**AN: Here is Chapter 3! Enjoy!**_

Ranger wasn't lying about how fast he could drive that car. We were home in twelve and a half hours and that was only because I needed to stop to pee three times, and he had to refuel. I was cleared to fly but I couldn't get a flight for another two days, and any private plane options Ranger had, were already in use so it was easier to just drive.

At a little after 9 pm we got an update from Bobby, who had gone with Vinnie to pick up grandma. She was home safely, tucked into bed with a sedative, and snoring so loud that he was ordering her a c-pap machine for her apnea. He was going to stick around for the night, for my peace of mind, and said he'd report in, if anything happened.

We pulled into the Haywood parking lot at three in the morning, and Ranger forced me upstairs and into bed. I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow, and for the first time in my life, I bolted out of bed with Ranger's alarm, four hours later. I was in the shower before he'd even killed the noise. I was dressed and ready to go before the coffee had even finished percolating and Ranger, being the fucking kick assed husband he is, was still ready before me, and had a to go cup poured and ready to go, before I finished tying my shoes. I never said, and he never asked if I wanted him there, he was going and there was no question about it. He didn't even stop on five to ask if there was anything to report. We went straight down to the parking garage and got back into the Porsche.

We were at my mother's house in ten minutes, and Bobby was waiting for us at the end of the walk, as Ranger parked on the street. "She's doing well, she's talking about getting a teardrop tattoo so people know she was in the joint."

"Was she hurt or anything?" I asked.

"No, Steph," Bobby said, "She's a little scared, but she's tough and she's okay. I'm going to stick around for the day, just to make sure. If I get worried about anything, I'll get her straight to the hospital."

I hugged him, and then ran inside where grandma and mom were making breakfast, as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on. "Grandma, what happened?" I blurted out when I saw her. She hugged me and I made her sit at the table, "Tell me everything."

"I don't know what happened, really," she said, "It was the damnedest thing. Merlin asked me to make a run to the drug store for him, because he had business to take care of. The next thing I know, I'm in the joint and wondering if, to keep safe, I'm gonna have to ride a purple whale with some AG."

"Jesus," Ranger said under his breath behind me. He sounded remarkably like my father, whenever grandma said something particularly outrageous that might put him off his dinner.

"Do I want to know?" I asked over my shoulder.

"No," Ranger said.

"Start with Vegas grandma," I said, glad I didn't have whatever visual Ranger was dealing with, right now, and relieved that if grandma was making comments like that, then she was probably really okay.

"So me and Hazel took a bus to Vegas and we had all of these books about beating the dealer, and how to play slots. When we got there, she said we needed to take these lessons, and they were real smart right, and we had a lot of fun. So Hazel, she's playing the slots, and she's using these tricks from the books, and she wins this jackpot, which isn't big because we were playing Penny slots, but she got us a suite at Circus Circus, and these tickets to this Magic show. Only it wasn't a magic show it was all these naked male dancers and it was so a real hoot! Well we got there early and the dancers were more mature young men."

"Define more mature," I said.

"Well, they have snow on the rooftops, but anything drooping can be fixed with a little blue pill."

Ranger leaned forward and whispered, "You owe me for this."

I nodded.

"So there weren't a lot of us there, accounting for it still being four o'clock and all, and we watched a few guys take off their clothes and then Merlin comes on stage. Merlin was a bit different on account of he does this magic act where brings a lady on stage and offers to show them his wand if they help him with his show. So he picks Hazel see, and she goes up looking all nervous and Merlin started to get worried she'd faint, but I figured I could handle it since I survived seeing him in his glory."

She nodded towards Ranger who rolled his eye heavenward, "I mean his little purple underwear, left nothing to the imagination and he ain't got nothing on…"

"Moving on…" my mother said, suddenly avoiding eye contact with Ranger. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere but in the room with him and my grandmother at the same time. She probably also insanely curious to know how her mother came to see Ranger in all his glory in the first place. It was simple really; seeing Ranger naked was on grandma's bucket list, so she walked in on him while he was in the shower. I still owed him for that too. In fact, I'm pretty sure he said I owed him big for that. Really big, like he was going to have to think about the right compensation big. I glanced back at him and he smirked at me.

"I have lots of ideas, Babe," he said. The temperature in the room went up a few degrees, and I took off the light jacket I was wearing.

"So I go up onstage, and isn't he just a dear? While he's dancing, and doing his magic, we get to talking, and he says when he's done there, he can teach me how to really work the tables. So he finishes his dance and Hazel, she's had enough of the dancing and wants to do something else. So we go out and he says he's going to teach us how to play this funny domino game, and our chips start piling up. So he manages to get us a high roller suite because we've won so much money, and I'm thinking, it's Vegas, and we made a bunch of money, that we should just spend on whatever we wanted. So he takes us shopping with our winnings. He says he knows all the good places to get the right things, and he says that because we're winning so much, they will comp us a bunch of stuff at the hotel too. He said the trick to casinos, is they want you to stay and keep gambling after you've won big, so they can win back their money. He said that they'd keep on giving us free stuff to get us to stay and gamble more. If we wanted the most bang for our buck, wouldn't go back to the tables.

So we don't and we get all kinds of free drinks, and food, and spa treatments, and stuff, and then on the last day there, he says he has to do this other show, so he takes us to hang out backstage, and when he was done, we all started drinking champagne. The next thing I know, Merlin and me, are waking up in a different hotel then before and we're naked and Hazel is watching our wedding video over breakfast. I thought Merlin was going to be all freaked out but he said, 'cool' and got one of these funny smelling cigarette things, and says we need to do our honeymoon right. So he sends Hazel home first class, and we take this fancy tour bus back, with the rest of the guys from the tour.

So we stop in Princeton, and when we get there, I see Morty Spellman in the audience, and Merlin isn't looking too happy about it, but he's a performer so he hides it and does the show. He told me after that he and Morty went to school together, and they never got along; which was a funny thing to say, because the next night, he was on stage again, and Morty brought his wife to the show and Merlin pulled her up on stage, the way he did me and Hazel. Now I know you're going to think I was going to get all jealous about this, but it's just an act, and frankly I couldn't keep up with him. I was thinking maybe it wasn't a bad thing if we had one of them open marriages, I mean I gotta bad hip."

I was going to need alcohol after this. A lot of it. Like buckets of it. I needed to erase the mental pictures.

"Then what happened?" I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

"Well, we were out of raincoats, and he asked me to go to the drugstore to get some, while he finished up at work. So I went, and then I got busted. I spent a few nights in the pokey and then one of them nice officers came down and said they were moving me up to this cozy little office, and weren't they suddenly these big dears. Then Joseph came in and explained that Merlin had been murdered and it was common practice for people to suspect the spouse. If he'd realized it was me, he would have bailed me out himself. He was really nice actually. Then Vinnie showed up and posted my bail and Joseph brought me home."

Her voice had gone soft at the end there, and I said, "Grandma, are you okay? I'm sorry about Merlin."

"That's okay, it probably wouldn't have worked you know? He wasn't much good at anything besides gambling, and sex, and dancing. Not that I need a real talker or anything, but it would have been nice to have something in common. We had fun though, and I'm sorry he's gone. He was very nice."

I squeezed grandma's hand, across the table, and mom gave her a hug. She smiled at us both and said, "I'll be okay."

"Grandma, the police say the gun has been fired recently; it's why they were holding you, and it matches the ballistics of the weapon that killed Merlin."

"The gun has been fired recently," she said, "When we were in Reno, we went to this CSI thing, and they showed us how they do the ballistics tests for the show. We were allowed to fire our own weapons if we wanted so we used my gun. Merlin had to fire it though, on account of the fact that the site was off, and I kept missing the gel thingie." And probably because she was carrying a 357 Magnum and the gun was bigger than she was, and she'd never admit she couldn't handle the recoil.

"Whose idea was it to go to the CSI thing?" Ranger asked.

"Some guy we met at a diner suggested it to us; said they have a newlywed special. I thought it sounded nifty, so Merlin said he'd take me."

"Do you remember what this man looked like?" he asked.

"Sure I do, he was one of the guys who worked at the place," Grandma said, "I have his card in my purse, but it's evidence apparently."

"Was the gun ever out of your sight?" He asked.

"Well it was in my purse, but I keep my shoulder bag on my shoulder almost all the time, when I'm out."

"What did Joe say about the charges?" I asked.

"He said that I didn't have to worry about being a suspect anymore; he was going to vouch for me. And he said he could probably have a word with the DA about getting the charge for Carrying concealed dealt with."

"It's already done," Ranger said, "You have to pay a small fine, and forfeit the weapon. Since it's evidence in a murder, you would have had to do it anyway."

He reached into a holster at his back and produce a cute little hot pink smith and wesson, revolver. He put it on the table in front of her and she smiled, "Well isn't that darling!" she exclaimed.

"It's not loaded," he said, "It's yours, and it's registered, and you can have it, but the minute I see it in your purse, I take it back. You're free to use the range at Haywood and Bobby has said that he'll be happy to help you learn to use it properly."

"Well aren't you the sweetest," Edna said.

"I have no doubt that with the right size gun you'll be a better shot than most of the men at Rangeman," he said.

I was touched, mom looked torn between being pissed that Ranger had replaced grandma's gun, and choked up because he'd done something really nice for grandma; even if it was a little weird.

"I'm going to talk to Joe some more later to make sure you really aren't a serious suspect, and we'll get to the bottom of this okay?" I said.

Ranger and I left shortly after that, to go pick up my white, vintage Range Rover from the Rangeman garage, and so he could do what work he needed to do that wasn't related to grandma. My first stop was going to be dropping by the Bonds Office to face the music, and to round up Lula and any potential work I might have. Besides if anyone knew gossip concerning a band of aging male strippers, it would be Connie and Lula, and that was a good place to start my grandma investigation. That is if they were speaking to me.

The thing is, I may have skipped town without telling Lula that Ranger and I were engaged, because we weren't actually engaged and only pretending to be for a job. When we decided we really wanted to be engaged, I could have told her we were getting married after all, but I didn't and now she wasn't returning my calls.

The drive to the office was pretty short and I was tempted to stop at my apartment first; trying to delay the inevitable, but I was going to need a partner who could help me look into Wylit's murder, that wasn't Ranger. I loved him and loved working with him, but the man had a company to run, and he'd been leaving a lot of it so he didn't leave me alone the entire time we were in Florida. And I would be lying if I said I didn't miss talking to Lula and Connie.

There's an episode of Sex and the City, where Charlotte gets angry with Samantha because she's so crude, and they have this fight, then Charlotte goes to lunch with girls who are twenty times more prudish than she is, and Samantha hangs out with someone who out Samantha's her, and Charlotte and Samantha realize how lucky they are to have each other. Over the last two weeks I'd felt like Charlotte. By no means am I happy standing out, being flamboyant or considered outrageous, but that's pretty much how a lot of people in Reef Knot saw me, and it made me miss Lula, and Connie, and Mary-Lou, because with them, I was normal. Our conversations might be a bit off the wall, but let's face it, these were my people.

I pulled into the Bonds Office lot and looked at the rings on my left hand. My engagement ring was an unusual thing, a round stone in a tension setting, with a platinum, partial pave band. The wedding ring was pretty much the same without the tension set stone. I loved them, and I hoped that maybe they might forgive me for not inviting them to the wedding, because honestly? I had absolutely zero, zip, not one single tiny regret for how we got married.

The ceremony was short, sweet, and interrupted by a moment of chaos, that should have surprised me, but actually didn't, because this is me, and what would a significant event in my life be, without a little chaos? Father Mayhew, the priest responsible for marrying us, .said, "Do you Ricardo Carlos Manoso take-" And didn't get any further because he was interrupted by a blood curdling scream, followed by the sound of one of Ranger's Miami Men, trying very hard not to curse because we were in church, "Son of a B…ad word. Fu…dge that fuc-dging hurts, get back here you little prick!"

And then two men in black swat clothes came running into the church, bent over, arms stretched out in attempt to catch a peach coloured Mollucan cockatoo, who was running in a funny, slightly drunken, and surprisingly quick, fashion, towards the alter of the Church. The bird was Father Mayhew's pet, his name was Lunch Box, and Lunch Box and Ranger went way back. The bird heard Mayhew say Ranger's name, and he lost his shit, and had to come see Ranger. In the process of his mad escape from Mayhew's office, the bird took a sizeable chunk out of a guy named JigSaw's thumb. Lunch Box, unable to fly because of a mild wing deformity had proceeded to run around Ranger's feet, screaming at him for attention, and biting at anyone who tried to catch him. Ranger simply looked at the bird and said, "I'm busy; wait."

Lunch Box immediately stopped and went to stand patiently where, if we weren't eloping, the Best man would be standing. He watched the ceremony with what looked like polite interest, and waited until it was over and Ranger said, "All Right," before the bird climbed up the lectern, and Ranger scratched its head, and told him to go back to bed. At which point he promptly did a less than graceful glide, that was really more like a controlled fall, down to the floor, before he walked, sedately, back to Mayhew's office.

Our wedding was immediately followed by the arrest of a very high bond skip, and a lawyer who worked for a Drug Cartel, and wanted in connection with about a zillion things that made my skin crawl just to think about. After that, we went back to our house for our wedding night, complete with a cupcake that looked like a miniature tiered wedding cake, and then Ranger spent the nights educating me on the perks of being Mrs. Manoso.

Aside from the bust, and Ranger's unlikely Best Man, the wedding was pretty much what we wanted. We had discussed two witnesses and a priest, and that had been our plan, but in the end it was two witnesses, a priest and about twenty Rangemen bodyguards. The bodyguards were there because Ranger's men were a bit twitchy after they realized that the Trenton boys hadn't been exaggerating about the gravitational field that pulled calamity, chaos, general mayhem and disaster into orbit around me. Our witnesses were a federal prosecutor who had been in the Army with Ranger, and Julie, Ranger's daughter, who arrived with her father and had been taken to school by Father Mayhew immediately following the ceremony.

On the Saturday afterwards, she came to visit for the day, and proceeded to ask me who I would rather she tell her friends I was like: the Evil Queen from Snow White, or the Duchess from Cinderella? In the end vanity won out; I mean the Evil Queen had been the fairest in the land until Snow White came along, and she had the magic mirror.

Rachel, Julie's mother, came to pick her up after dinner, and then Ranger and I spent a week with zero interruptions, very little clothing, and a lot of celebrating. Then we called our families, and friends to give them the news. The reviews were, at best, mixed. Connie had been happy for us, Lula hung up on me, my sister Val burst into tears and I couldn't make out what she said. Mary-Lou screamed so loud she nearly shattered my eardrum, and did blow out the speaker in my cell phone, and mom was irate.

Ranger made two phone calls; one to his mother, and one to his grandmother. The call to his mother consisted of him telling her that we were married, her wishing us congratulations, before she started to lecture Ranger on what people would think about him eloping a second time. Asking him what she was going to tell her friends, and finally demanding that we have a proper wedding in front of everyone. Ranger told her that it wasn't going to happen, and told her that he would consent to dinner with the immediate family, only, when I was well enough to travel. The call to his grandmother was short, in Spanish, and translated to me by Ranger afterwards.

"Did you marry her because you had to?"

"Yes," he said.

"Why?

"I love her."

"Don't fuck it up."

"I don't intend to."

"Good. If your mother is a pain in the ass about respectability, have her call me. I'll remind her of her wedding; it'll shut her up."

"Do I want to know?"

"No," Rosa said.

He actually said goodbye to his grandmother, and that was it. The call was a revelation really, because now I fully understood where he got his conversational style from.

It had been easy to push all of these reactions to the background, while sunning myself by the pool in Florida, but now we were back. This was reality, and it was time to put on my big girl panties and face the music. I would have to patch things up with Lula and my mother, and maybe Val, if her tears weren't happy ones (With her it wasn't always easy to tell). Then there was my apartment to deal with, I'd have to see Morelli at some point, and oh yeah deal with the stares and whispers that would be there because I was a major source of entertainment in Trenton. I took a deep breath opened the car door and got out.

It looked like it was going to be a nice-ish day. The sky was blue, with thick streaks of greyish white clouds that probably meant rain later in the day. For now though, the sun was winning the fight for supremacy of the sky, it was seventy degrees out, and there was a gentle breeze blowing, that if we were anywhere but in Trenton, would have probably smelled fresh, with a hint of spring flowers. Since it was Trenton, and I wasn't exactly in a pretty part of town, it smelled like exhaust, wet cigarettes and a smell I didn't even want to try and identify. Instead of birds chirping, there was the squeal of tires, followed by cursing. Ahh home sweet home, I thought as I approached the door to the office.

I opened it and was greeted by the site of Connie, sitting behind her desk with her usually teased and Aquanetted hair, forced into a clip, as she yelled (not angrily) into the phone. On her desk were at least fifty files, and she was looking less than pleased.

Lula, who was never in this early, was wearing something I'd never seen Lula wear before, a pair of jeans. Sure the jeans had a hefty amount of spandex in them, and were a few sizes too small, but they were jeans, and over them she was wearing a glittery electric blue tank top, that was probably meant to be oversized, and was low enough cut that you could make out a poison green push up bra. She too had given up on her hair, which was usually styled flamboyantly and brightly coloured, but today it was also reefed back into a tight ponytail.

"No, I know it's in here somewhere," she was yelling at Connie, "She said you have to trick him; I just can't remember how."

"Lula, he's shooting at them, think!" Connie yelled, then she saw me, "Oh thank Christ you're back! Powell is on the roof, shooting at Lester and Ram, and he's boobytrapped the whole fucking property. They can't get out, because Lester says it's entirely possible there are claymores around the perimeter, and they can't just shoot him, because Powell is holding a deadman's switch."

"He won't blow them up," I said, "The switch is a dummy, and he's missing them on purpose; he calls himself an aggressive pacifist. Give me the phone."

Powell was seventy years old with a mild bladder incontinence issue, and had a habit of shoplifting new pants whenever anyone startled him. It was a condition that wasn't helped at all by the fact that he drank half a dozen RedBull a day, so he wasn't exactly what you might consider zen like. I took the phone from Connie and got Lester.

"Tell him a dirty joke!" I shouted into the phone. All you could hear was gunfire.

"What?!" Lester yelled.

"Tell him a dirty joke, the raunchier the better; he'll stop shooting and want to take notes."

"You're shitting me," he shouted.

"No, seriously, tell him a filthy joke; I know you know a few. He'll let you take him in because he needs material for his poker night," I said.

"You had better be right about this, Beautiful," Lester said,"Yo! What do you get when you cross a chicken and a…"

I hung up before I heard any more. I was pretty sure that whatever raunchy joke Lester was about to bellow, had the potential to scar me for life. "I thought you had to trick him?" Connie said.

"I do, but that's because I ran out of material, and searching the internet for good dirty jokes was making me question the state of humanity," I said and looked at the desk, "What the hell is all this?"

"Well when you left, Rangeman took over your cases for you, and…"

"It don't matter now," Lula said, "She's back and now we can all get back to doin' our real jobs."

She walked over to one of the stacks of files on the floor and started cramming them into the filing cabinet, randomly, it seemed, until she was done, "I'm taking my break now, if that's okay with you? Actually I don't give a rats ass if is." And with that she stomped out of the Bonds Office and a few seconds later we heard her slamming the door on her Firebird.

"If it's any consolation, she's just as pissed at me, as she is at you," Connie said, "If it weren't for this shit here, I don't think she would be speaking to me either."

"What the hell is going on here anyway?" I asked, trying to ignore the fact that I felt lower than dirt for not calling Lula after we finished the job in Florida, when the need for secrecy was over.

"What happened was a stupid God damned rumour, that's what happened. See Tank came in here, with a couple of new recruits, just after you left, and said they were taking your skips. He then asked me to explain the process, because he had shit to do. So he introduces them to me as Ben and Harry…."

"Oh, so close…" I said and Connie grinned.

"I know right? Lula's already accidentally called them Ben and Jerry. Anyway, I'm explaining to them how it works, and I've got four skips for them, and I tell them who they have to be careful with, where they should look, and basically told them everything I told you, when you started. Then I told them that they wanted to be careful, just because the bond is low, doesn't mean they aren't going to try to shoot at them, run, or be a general pain in the ass. They take me seriously, and they take the files and are reading them through on Gran's sofa when Jenny Galecki comes in because her sister, Carol, needed bonding out."

Carol was Connie's age and voted in high school as being the most likely to get nominated for sainthood. "What the hell could she have possibly done?" I asked.

"She was busted for shoplifting a box of tampons. That might not have been so bad, except when the store manager tried to stop her from doing it, she tried to suffocate him with a bag of Cheetos."

I winced, "See if I were the store manager, I'd have just looked the other way when I realized what she was stealing."

"Right? She's probably going to get off with a temporary insanity plea."

I mean, cramps, bloating, raging hormones, being forced to shoplift tampons, and getting busted for it, are just a perfect recipe for even the most level headed woman to go temporarily bat shit crazy. I was also really glad that I wasn't Carol's husband, Randy. Randy was a plumber with a good business, and a decent paycheque, but he also had a love for the ponies. It was probably his fault she had to shoplift them in the first place.

"Anyway, Lula comes in while Jenny is filling out paperwork, and sees Ben and Jerry on the sofa, and asks who they are. I say, 'They are the new Steph.' So Jenny goes with Vinnie to bail Carol out, and that's that, no big deal. Except Jenny's at the jail to pick up Carol and when Carol comes out, Jenny says, 'So you know how Stephanie Plum works for her cousin? Well she must be better than we thought, because it's taken two guys to replace her.' they have a bit of a laugh and again, that should be it."

"Obviously not," I said. Connie shook her head.

"Mooner heard this and thought Vinnie had fired you, and he started talking to another one of your regulars while he's in holding and says he's going to have to be extra careful to remember his court date this time because he has a SciFI convention to get to, and he doesn't think your replacements would be as understanding as you were about that sort of thing. It just snowballed from there, and it's like everyone Vinnie has bonded out in the last month has basically lost their fucking minds because they have all decided to protest your termination by skipping bail. Every last one of them."

"I don't know whether to be touched, or horrified," I said.

"Some of them actually care, the rest just want an excuse to be shits," Connie said. "It's all happened in the last couple of days and Rangeman is completely tapped out, we've got everyone out there, trying to round up the skips. We've had to triage, get the worst off of the streets, but we've got fifty, FIFTY of these guys to bring in. Tank had Hector break into your computer to look at your notes on how you caught these guys last time, and Lula's been going through old files looking for anything you may have written in them to make them easier but…"

The door to Vinnie's inner sanctum slammed open and Vinnie, looking white as a sheet, came running out of the office, and actually hugged me. "Fix this, rent a bus, I don't give a shit what you do, but fix this. Harry just called and told me he was going to staple my nuts to my ass if this didn't get handled right away. He wasn't joking, he was in the hardware store when he called, looking at pneumatic staple guns."

There was a visual I could have spent my entire life, happily not having. I shoved Vinnie off of me, family or not, nobody sane wanted Vinnie touching them. "Jeeze, I'll deal with it, just don't do that again. I just showered."

The whine of a turbo charged engine came from the street, and then cut out and I turned to see Ranger angling out of his more understated black 911 Turbo, and he came into the office. He looked at me and grinned, "Seems like we have a problem, Babe."

"Seems like," I agreed.

"You think? This could bankrupt me!" Vinnie yelled, he was a little hysterical, "I…"

"Will sign this," Ranger handed Vinnie a piece of paper, "It states that you have engaged Rangeman at a flat rate to do this. I'm going to hire Stephanie as a contract worker on this project and Rangeman will handle her pay."

Vinnie only just, managed not to hug Ranger. See this was a disaster for Vinnie, not just the repercussions that Harry had promised, but on every level. How it works is, if you get sent to jail, and you get granted bail, but can't afford to pay it, you get someone like Vinnie to help you out. You pay him a percentage of the bond as a guarantee that you'll go to court, and Vinnie then goes to the courthouse and pays the full bond. You show up to court, he gets everything back, and gets to keep the downpayment you've paid them. So if you have a $100,000 bond and Vinnie charges you 10% he's up $10,000 at the end of it. If you skip bail, then Vinnie is out the whole $100K, and he doesn't like that. So when that happens, Vinnie hires someone like me or Ranger to go track you down, if we drag you back to court, Vinnie gets the money back and it's cool, and we get the 10%. He's out the downpayment, but it's better than being out the full meal deal. Since most people didn't jump bail, this was an acceptable loss. However, everyone ditching court, made the loss not so acceptable. I was already considering telling Connie to drop my fee down, a lot. Vinnie was a good Bondsman, and as slimy as he was, he provided a valuable service to the community. Vinnie going out of business would be a bad thing.

Vinnie managed to pull himself together before he actually forgot himself and came into any kind of physical contact with Ranger. Ranger waited for Vinnie to sign the paperwork and motioned for me to follow him back out to the car.

"So, what are you paying me for this?" I asked.

"Your usual rate," he said.

"I have a usual rate?" I asked with a laugh.

"Yeah," he said, "You do. You should really read your contracts sometime; I could be asking you to do anything."

"Probably," I said, "But usually when we make deals it works out really well for me, and I like surprises."

He snagged me around the waist and pulled me flush to him. He kissed me until my toes curled, and released me. Yup, see I wasn't expecting that, and it was a good surprise.

"So you're my boss on this one," I said. He nodded. "Last time we worked together, we were undercover and we got to be all casual, but this time, it's not."

He nodded again.

"So we have to be professional."

Another nod.

"Then I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be making out with the boss in the middle of the parking lot."

"Consider it a signing bonus," he said.

"I haven't signed anything yet," I reminded him.

"Contract negotiations," he amended.

"Do I have to call you, Sir?" I asked. His smile made my heart rate skyrocket and other parts of my body start to override my brain.

"You can, but we won't get any work done, if you do," he said, his voice a little deeper, and we were just about to kiss again, when a black Ford Expedition pulled into the lot, and parked next to the Porsche. Lester and Ram got out of the back, looking a little beat up, but otherwise not blown up or broken.

"So she says, 'wait until you see what I can get with a quarter,'" Lester was saying to Ram.

"Dude, that's just wrong," Ram said, "You're going straight to hell."

"Probably," Lester said, "But I'm having a lot of fun earning my ticket."

"Look!" I said, "You're not shot!"

Lester grinned at me, "How the hell did you figure that one out?"

"I asked him why he kept shooting at me when I tried to pick him up. He told me the guys at his poker game expected a dirty joke every time, and he'd run out of material. He didn't have time to waste a day in court that he could spend looking for good stuff on the net."

Lester looked at me incredulously; I could feel Ranger's silent laughter, and Ram looked dumbstruck. "Let me get this straight, he shoots at you, repeatedly; blows shit up to scare you off, and you ask him why he's doing it?"

"Yeah," I said, "Did you read his file? He's got twenty twenty vision thanks to Lassik and he was a sniper/munitions expert in Vietnam; if he really wanted to hit me, I'd be dead."

"And what would you have done if he told you he didn't want to go in with you, because you were a pain in the ass?"

"I'd have called Ranger," I said, "Old guys like it when Ranger hauls them in; it makes them feel badass."

"Of course it does," Lester said. Lester looked torn between agreeing with the old guys (being busted by Ranger did give you a certain amount of street cred), wanting to laugh, and disbelief.

"How are we handling the Vinnie issue?" I asked Ranger.

"Keep these two; I'll send over a some reinforcements, and you handle it. I'm being granted access to the Wylitt Crime scene…"

I opened my mouth to tell him I was coming with him and he put a finger on my lips to stop me from speaking, "Not this time. I promise you I will tell you everything I see, and I'm getting a copy of the video they've taken of the scene, so you can go over it, but I'm pulling a lot of strings to get myself in there."

Translation, his access to the site was probably less than entirely legal. So was his copy of the video too, probably. "Do what you need to do here Babe, get this dealt with, leave any legitimate skips to these two, and we'll talk tonight."

"I'm going to go see Morelli today, to see what he can tell me," I said. There was a minute tick to his jaw, but as usual, because it was me, he was willing to suppress his dislike for Morelli on a personal level, and let his respect for him on a professional level, win out.

"Try to get a T.O.D. and I've got Carlos running a search on Wylitt on your computer. You should have a complete history waiting for you when you get home."

Carlos, was Ranger's wayward nephew, who was living at Rangeman instead of sitting in Juvie for a possession charge. He was an angry kid, and practically Ranger 2.0. He still had a lot of bugs to work out, but he had the potential to be a decent human being. It was hard to say, given that he's a teenager and most of them are awful anyway. That Ranger was allowing him to run a search was a big step for the kid… or punishment because it got really really boring. Again, hard to say.

"I take it you're taking off immediately?" I said.

"I have a meeting before I go to the Crime Scene. My phone will be on," he said. He gave me a kiss goodbye, and then walked around to the other side of the Porsche and got into the driver's seat and took off.

I turned back to Lester and Ram and said, "So what the hell? I thought you were on a plane to kick some ass in Miami! What are you doing going after my crazy skips?"

"Must have been fate, Beautiful," Lester said, "Our flight kept getting delayed, and then it was cancelled. We were supposed to fly out yesterday, and then Ranger called to say our mission was on hold, because you were coming home. Then about ten minutes after that call, Connie called freaking out, and we've all been working our asses off trying to find your skips. We've picked up a few already. Mostly they were using you as a convenient excuse to jump bail, but I'm pretty sure they would have done it anyway. It's the others, that are the problem."

I agreed. We walked back into the office, and I started sorting through the stacks of skips. Anyone who was a real flight risk went into a pile that was thankfully small; the rest were either regulars or those that had probably jumped on the bandwagon.

I found Mooner's file and looked up his most recent contact information. I liked Mooner; it was kind of hard not to really. Years of sparking up had wiped out most of his braincells, and he had the personality of a Great Dane puppy. He was big, gangly, kind of ridiculous looking, clumsy and so adorable you can't help but love him. A quick check of the television listings to see what Retro television he was likely to be watching, revealed nothing that would interest him, so I picked up the phone and called his cell phone. When he answered I could hear a party in the background.

"Dudette!" Mooner shouted into the phone, "Yo, we're on strike for you! It ain't right that he fired you!"

"Mooner," I said, "I wasn't fired. I was on my honeymoon; Ranger and I got married."

"Well, no shit," he said, "Well yo, congrats Steph! Heeeyyyy everybody she's on the phone! She's got her job back! We stuck it to the man and we won babes!" there was a lot of cheering in the background and the phone disconnected. They weren't seriously hiding in one place? I called him back, and he answered it again.

"Hey, who's this," he said, "You're going to have to yell; I'm like, at a bitchin' party."

"Mooner, it's me," I said, "Where the hell are you?"

"Yo! It's the Dudette again! Everybody shut up!" There was no discernible difference in decibels on my end but he shouted a genuine "Thanks!" To the crowd so what did I know?

"Where the hell are you?" I repeated.

"Uhhhh, guys where are we again?" he said, his voice slightly muffled, "Yeah hey, we're at Bingo's Bowling. Only like, it's not a bowling alley anymore, it's like this weird place where there's like all these huge trampolines and, dude it's like super wicked."

"How many of you are there?" I asked.

"Dunno Dudette, started out with like just a couple of us and yeah it just sorta grew and…"

"Listen, Mooner I'm going to send my friend Lester to pick you guys up so you can go get re-bonded. Grandma is in trouble right now and I don't have time to do it."

"If he picks us up, do you like, still get the dough?" Mooner asked.

"Yes," I said, "I do." I crossed my fingers. While technically wasn't a lie, and I was getting paid for this, I wasn't getting my usual cut.

"Cool!" he said, "But we need to know that this guy is legit coming from you, and isn't some other bounty hunter dude trying to horn in on your cut right? We need a password and it has to be like something that only you would know, or like someone you know would know, you know?"

It took a second to process that, and then I said, "Okay fine; like what?"

"Ummm… like uhhh, Rollswagon. Yeah, that was a sweet ride," he said.

"Fine the secret password is Rollswagon… Mooner, are you going to remember that?"

"Remember what?" He asked.

"What the secret password is…"

"Oh yeah, we totally need one…"

"Mooner is there someone else there I can speak to? Someone who knows me? Like say a guy named Hank?"

"No, but you know Mrs. Bestler?"

"As in the little old lady who lives in my building and thinks she's working the elevator at Macy's?"

"Yeah, she's totally here."

"Yeah, that's not going to help. Wait, why is she there?"

"Because she was like, at your apartment when I went to visit you before I got busted."

"Why did you get busted?" I asked.

"Oh because like, remember how like I gave you that box a few weeks back?"

"No," I said.

"Yeah like I left the box in your kitchen," he said.

"Mooner, I wasn't there a few weeks ago, remember? I was away…"

"Oh yeah, so like I got this box delivered to my place; it was from your grandma, and she said that I should bring it by your place and…"

"Hang on Mooner, I'm going to go with Lester to pick you up; he's gonna take everyone to get re-bonded, and you're going to come with me to my apartment."

"Right on. Hey, do you mind if we grab a bite first? I'm like totally feeling popcorn chicken right now."

"It's 10:30 in the morning."

"That's when they are like totally fresh."

"Fine."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: So there's good news and bad news. The good news is that I am posting this early, the bad news is that I have ACL surgery next Friday, so while I hope to post again a couple of more times before then, after I don't know when I'll be putting up a new chapter. Thanks for your reviews and if I didn't hit you back with a thank you, it was because FanFiction was being weird. I like them all! Thanks!**

I hung up with Mooner and looked at Connie, "How do fifty people even miss their court dates in like two days? Was there a massive crime wave I didn't hear about? When I left, nobody was leaving their houses because we were buried under nine feet of snow."

"That's the thing, we called the court house to see how this was even possible, and they don't know. But for two days this week, the only cases being heard in court, were all for the small time offenders that Vinnie bonded out. I called Les Seabring this morning and he's never had that happen before, and he's been in business longer than we have," She said.

I looked at her long and hard, my eyes narrowed, "Connie, is this a setup? Like is this some way to have a weird ass surprise party, because I swear to God, I don't have time for this right now. My Grandmother is person of interest in a murder…"

"I promise, there is something fucked up about this, and Vinnie is developing an ulcer. After Jankowitz, Harry is breathing down his neck," Connie said. I looked at Lester.

"I promise Beautiful, we've been working our asses off since she called yesterday, freaking out because everyone jumped bail," he said.

"Les…"

"How stupid would it be, to hold a surprise party of any kind for Ranger?" he said, "Think about it; he might actually shoot someone." I sighed, "Connie can you make a quick checklist for us to use when we haul people in?"

"Yeah," she said, "How are you going to get them all there?"

"I'm calling Sally," I said. Sally was Sally Sweet, he drove a school bus by day and by night he was a cross dressing rock singer. He and I had a bond that went way back, when he saved my life with that school bus of his. He was game to help me out, as long as we were done whatever it was we needed to do before he had to pick the little dudes up from school. Ten minutes later, there was a big orange school bus in the parking lot of the bonds office. Lester and Ram were in their SUV and I was leading our parade through Trenton to the defunct bowling alley, now kiddie trampoline gym, called the Jumping Jelly Bean.

The building was sad looking cinderblock building with a super thick neon green and orange paint job, sign that boasted a pair of pink and blue anthropomorphic jelly beans jumping in the air. They had really big, and really creepy looking eyes that seemed to always be looking at you.

Sally got off his bus. He was dressed in ripped black skinny jeans and a white t-shirt that hung off his skinny frame. He was wearing a pair of grey denim flip flops on his feet and from his ankles to his neck, he looked almost normal; everywhere else was head turning. He had a really funky polish job on his toes, that I was quite jealous of, a psycadellic pink, white and black swirl design. From the neck up he had a full face of make up that I could never accomplish in my wildest dreams, and I could rock makeup. His lips were light purple, he had mastered the art of contouring and his highlight was nearly blinding, his eye make-up was a sort of bright orange smoky eye look, and he was wearing a poker straight white wig that fell to his shoulders, with a blunt bang and had orange highlights to match his eye makeup. If I tried that combination of colours, I'd look like a clown; Sally actually looked pretty. Considering he usually barely remembered to shave, I was impressed.

"You're looking good Sally," I said.

"Yeah," he said, "I sort of have to now; my public expects it," he said. "Like I was on the internet one day trying to really work this black shadow, and watching this tutorial, and she was like really good and all, but I thought she was way too safe with her colours. So I took some esthetics courses and started my own tutorial, and now I'm in talks to start a makeup line; it's totally crazy. Wanna come to my lab later? I've got this lipstick that I'm calling Bombshell and it's totally an homage to you. You'll totally dig it."

"Is it a slutty red?" I asked.

"No, Steph, I wouldn't do that to you," he said. He looked up at the creepy signs and winced, "This place is fucking trippy man."

"Fuckin, A." Lester said behind us, "I'm never going to be able to look at jelly beans again without being a little creeped out."

"Word," Ram and I said together. Lester, who was wearing his gun on his hip, flicked the snap on his holster, just in case, and I opened the door.

If the place was freaky on the outside, it was like the trampoline gym at the end of the world, on the inside. The floor was made up almost entirely of trampolines, but the place had obviously not been used by kids in a long time. There was graffiti on every surface, someone had painted zombies on the walls in white, over top of the graffiti so that when under the strobing backlights they almost looked like they were moving. The air smelled like pretty much any night club I'd ever been to. Sweat, stale booze and there was a haze in the air that was probably a combination of cigarette smoke and weed. The music was just as trippy as the rest of it all, because the DJ in the corner had obviously stumbled across the kiddie music that used to belong to this place and was spinning it with a rapid techno beat.

"This is so fucked up, it's actually cool," Lester said. I nodded, though the thumping base was going to give me an eye twitch. "Let's go over to the DJ, so we can get you on the mic."

I nodded again, slowly because I was transfixed, watching people grind against each other like they were at a club, but they were standing on the frames of the trampoline, while others were jumping up, trying to be acrobats. I don't know if this place had the potential to be a really kick ass business venture or if it was just a lawsuit waiting to happen.

Sally prodded me forward and we walked around the perimeter of the gym, while I tried not to be creeped out by the zombies on the wall, until we got to the DJ. Lester boosted me up onto the stage and rather than try to yell over the deafening music I showed the DJ my driver's license and he stopped the freaky music and yelled into the mic.

"All right, all right, all right," he said in his best Matthew McConaughey, "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, the lady of the hour, our one and only Bombshell Bounty Hunter, Stephanie Plum!"

There was a roar from the room full of people who were definitely not all my skips, and he started the music up again. I sighed and took the mic. The entire crowd was either drunk, stoned, or jacked up on Redbull, and had been awake for twenty four hours. If I said, "hey follow me out to the bus so you can go back to jail!" it wasn't going to work. Also there were like 500 people crammed into the place and it was just going to be a pain in the ass sorting them out.

"Hey! Everyone! Does everyone know my friend Sally Sweet?!" Another scream of approval from the crowd and Sally waved, "Who wants to play a game?!" Another scream as the crowd started yelling in excitement. "I'm going to call a name, and if you can answer a skill testing question, you get to join my friend Sally Sweet on a special bus trip!" More screaming from the crowd.

"Okay first name on my list, is… Roger Shelton!" Roger Shelton came running up to the stage.

"Okay Roger, here's your question: Which hand, is your left hand?" Roger mulled that over for a worryingly long time and then held up his right hand.

"Close enough! Sally introduce him to my friends Lester and Ram, and they can escort him out to the bus," Sally introduced Roger to Lester and Ram, and they took him outside, I called two more people up on the stage, asked them equally stupid questions, with varying results, and when Lester came back inside, he escorted them out. We made it through the list, crossing off a decent amount of people, there were a few who weren't there, but I suspected they were nursing hangovers and Sally said we could swing by their places when we were done. I told him not to sweat it, the list of outstanding skips was much more manageable now.

When the "Game" was over, I called Connie to meet us at the station with the paperwork for all of the skips we'd rounded up. After that I left the rest of them to their crazy assed rave. When I got outside, Ram was on the bus with Sally, Mooner was in my car, looking pretty chill, and Lester was leaning against his truck, shaking with laughter. "I can't believe that worked," he said.

"Neither can I, but you've gotta wonder if this is some kind of record," I said, "I just hope TPD can house them all."

I called ahead to give them the lowdown on what was about to happen, and when I got there with the bus, there was a team of officers waiting to escort people off of the bus, and Morelli was standing outside, grinning.

"How the hell did you do this?" He asked. "I swear to god they were having a party in one place," I said. Lester told Morelli what we did and when he was finished Morelli was belly laughing, "The problem I have is that Mooner needs to be brought in too, but he got a package from Grandma a few weeks ago, apparently it's at my apartment. Why she had it delivered to Mooner, I don't know, and I'd like to ask him some questions there."

"I can put him into interrogation here and meet you at your place," he said.

"Yeah, except it's Mooner," I said, "I'm pretty sure his memory is now entirely state dependant; I'm thinking he might remember more in my apartment."

"You make a good point," he said, "Fine, I'll follow you over, but he is under arrest."

"Whatever," I said. I got into my car and Morelli went to his Jeep. We cruised by KFC to pick up Mooner's popcorn chicken, and ordered Morelli a spicy chicken sandwich combo, and one of the big family feast meals for the Office. Morelli was waiting for me in the lot, I'd forgotten he'd already returned his key. I gave him his lunch and we went up to my apartment. I walked in, and was hit by a wall of heat.

"Holy crap!" I said. Morelli went to the thermostat which was jacked up to max, my apartment was a sauna. When I'd left the heat was broken and it was crazy cold outside, seems like Dillon forgot to turn it down when he fixed it. Morelli and I opened every window while Mooner, who didn't seem to notice that it was ten thousand degrees in the place, sat in my kitchen, slurping his 7Up and munching on his popcorn chicken. When we were finished, Morelli parked his ass on the edge of the counter and took a sip of his Pepsi, "So where's this box?" he asked.

"Oh, I didn't want to leave it out in the open, because who knows who might come in here you know?" He had a fair point and both Joe and I nodded our agreement, "I didn't want you to like, miss it, so I put it in the cereal cupboard," Mooner said.

It was a good place to put it, because I definitely would have found it, but it probably would have scared the crap out of me. I opened the cupboard, the box in question was a big pink and white striped box, with a soft green ribbon with a big bow on the top. "Is that how it came?"

"Yeah man," Mooner said, "I mean it had brown paper on it and stuff, but that shit's long gone."

"Okay Mooner, you're going to have to start from the beginning; when did you get the parcel?"

"Uhhh, dunno… Hang on, I got two parcels that week; I like ordered a box set of all the Doctor Who's from like the way beginning to like now, and it was totally cool. It came in, in this huge box, and then Grandma's box came just as I was working my way through the second box set."

"How long did it take you to get that far?" I asked.

"Well see, the first two Doctors don't have much right? Because most of it was lost, which is totally tragic, I mean it's bad because you don't get the whole story, but it's awesome anyway. So the first set is only like not very long."

"Define not very long?" I said.

"Dunno Dudette, but it didn't take me too long to get through it all, the first box only had like three episodes and the second one had more, but like not much, and I like don't like taking breaks because it disrupts the flow of it all, right?"

"Okay, so it would be like two or three days after you got the box," I said.

He nodded, "How did you order it?" Joe asked.

"Amazon dude," he said.

Joe pulled out his phone and found Amazon and had Mooner log in. Checking his account history, we saw that he'd taken delivery of the Doctor Who parcel on the Monday after Ranger and I got married, meaning the other box came in probably the Wednesday or Thursday right after. Clearly it was okay to move the parcel, or it would have exploded at some point or another already, so I gingerly took it down from the shelf and brought it to the counter. "Don't open it, Cupcake, let my get a team here…"

"Hang on," I said. I called grandma, "Hey did you send a parcel to Mooner that was supposed to come to me?"

"Yeah! Just a little wedding present I thought you might like, only I didn't want to lug it around with me, but I didn't want it just sitting in your corridor until you got back, so I asked the Moonman to put in your place, seeing as he's got a key and all."

"Thanks grandma, just wanted to make sure someone wasn't sending me a bomb," I said and disconnected. "Grandma sent it to me."

I opened the box and was seriously impressed with grandma's present shopping. She'd acquired a 20 inch, insanely detailed, ceramic statue of Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman, in full gonna whoop your ass with her golden lasso pose. It was awesome.

"Now that kicks ass," I said. Joe grinned.

"False alarm," he said, "I was hoping it was something to explain why someone killed Wylitt."

"Me too," I said, "But this is deeply cool."

I closed the box back up again, and I asked Mooner, "What was with the massive FTA party anyway?"

"Oh like, it totally wasn't my idea; I just helped get the word out."

"Okay," I said, "Why don't you tell me how it started?" I said.

"Well I went to drop off your present, right? And when I came back, someone had been in my place."

"Were the locks broken?" "No," He said.

"Place trashed?"

"That's hard to say, because like, I hadn't cleaned in a while, it was more like it there was this vibe right? So I called the police and when they got here…"

"They found your stash?" I guessed.

"No, man, I'm getting clean," he said, "Me and Dougie have decided to like, buy a house, and we almost have a downpayment and everything. Like I gotta job now and stuff too. I do data entry online and stuff. Nah man, they ran a check on me as like standard procedure and I got busted because I had a bunch of unpaid speeding tickets."

"Gotcha," I said. I didn't even bother to read Mooner's file anymore because I always knew where to find him, and he was pretty harmless.

"So I was sitting in the cell, waiting for Vinnie, and I got to talking to this lawyer dude, about how I was totally bummed because you weren't working for Vinnie anymore, because you're nice right, you don't even put the cuffs on me. You come over, hang and then we go in to do whatever right? So he asked how come you got fired, and I said I didn't know. So like Vinnie couldn't get in, because of the crazy ass snow right, so I spent the weekend in jail with this guy, and a bunch of other dudes, and the guy says, 'You know Plum probably is gonna bail a lot of these guys out, if we all refused to go in, it would teach Vinnie a lesson' and then we could like, get you your job back.

At first I was like, no way man, because I thought I'd get in real trouble and then he says, he's a lawyer, there's no way they can charge me for it, because we're exercising our rights to a peaceful protest. We just have to tell everyone. So I said I could set up a website, and I could start making flyers and shit. So he says, he'll help me distribute the flyers, and Dougie says, what we should do, is make a thing of it, so if Vinnie didn't give you your job back, we could like get you a bunch of money from cover charge and stuff and he knows the place we can have the party. So this Lawyer dude says he'll make sure he gets the list of everybody Vinnie has been bonding out right? So he does, and he accidentally left it at my house, so I decided to tell everyone that it was like, going to be the biggest party in history, and everybody was buying tickets in advance like crazy and we were getting this big DJ to come, and so it was just really cool. So they all came, and it was like totally bitchin' but it's been going on for like days now."

"Did this lawyer know about the party?" I asked.

"No, I mean I was gonna invite him, like everybody was invited, but I forgot his name, which is like a huge bummer right?" he said.

I looked at Morelli, "Any chance that there's video of Mooner's weekend stay in the slammer?" I asked.

"Of course there is," Morelli said, "I'll get it and check it out for you, let you know who it is. I'm assuming you want this because you think this guy is trying to screw Vinnie?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Come on Moon-man," Morelli said, "Got to get you processed again."

"Why dude? I'm not due in court until like tomorrow," he said, "I haven't skipped; besides we were just exercising our right to…"

"There is bench warrant out for not showing up to court Mooner," I said, "I have the capture papers."

"Oh, weird man," he said, "Like I put it in my calendar and everything. Dougie was with me too, must have clicked on the wrong Friday."

Morelli took him out of the apartment and I repackaged Wonder Woman, and put the lid back on the box. When I was finished, I walked around the apartment looking for anything I might need at Ranger's place, since we were staying there until we decided where the hell we were going to live. I put a bunch of stuff in a pillowcase, and packed all of my clothes up in a duffle bag, since.

I lugged it all downstairs and then let Dillon, the super, know that I'd left the windows open, since he hadn't turned down the thermostat, and asked him if he wouldn't mind closing them in a few hours. "Shit, sorry Steph," he said, "I must have accidentally cranked it, when I was replacing it. My bad. I wasn't going to bother since you weren't going to be here for a while, I figured it would just warm up eventually."

"No worries," I said, "I'm staying with Ranger. Hey listen, how many months left on my lease?"

"Uhh, like eight," he said, "Why?"

"Ranger and I got married, and I'm probably going to be moving out," I said.

"Congratulations!" He said, beaming, "That's so cool! Hey actually, I might have someone who would be willing to sublet, if you throw in the furniture."

"Cool, I'll talk to you about it later, when I know what we're doing," I said. Dillon helped me lug my crap out to the car, and then I went back to the office to see who was leftover after our mass bust. Lula still wasn't back yet, but Connie was.

"I left Vinnie at the police station to deal with everything," Connie said, "Someone has to answer the phones right?"

I nodded, and sat down on the sofa, with the files for the legitimate skips. Not one of them was going to be worth more than a hundred bucks to me, and I couldn't in good conscience give two of them to Lester, simply because they were housewives who didn't go in, likely because they were embarrassed. The others I'd deal with when I had the time.

I crammed them in my messenger bag/purse and reclined against the back of the sofa. I was exhausted. I hadn't slept well in the car, I thought I may have ruined my back trying to do it, and I didn't sleep well when we got back to the apartment, because I was so worried. Now that I knew grandma was, for the moment at least, safe, and I was sitting on the ugly sofa Connie had hauled out of her grandma's basement, but was the most comfortable piece furniture ever created, I was seriously considering taking a nap before I did anything else.

I was just about to leave when Connie said, "What the hell?" and went around the desk to open the door for Lula, who was carrying a massive, pink box. She lugged it over to Connie's desk and carefully put it down.

"Sorry I was gone so long; it took them forever to build this thing, even though I told them yesterday when Tank said you were coming home, that it was go time. I mean they told me and told me it would only take like, a few hours if they had a day to do the prep, which they totally had," Lula said, she looked at me, "Well whatchoo waiting for? Get your skinny ass over here and open this stupid thing."

"I thought you were pissed at me?" I said.

"I was pissed at you, but I got you back, and I'm cool now. So get your ass over here and open your wedding present," she said. I walked over to the desk and lifted the lid on the bakery box while Lula and Connie dealt with the sides, and we flattened the box. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry so I hugged Lula instead. It was a three tiered wedding cake, made entirely out of a variety doughnuts.

"I should have told you when it became a real thing," I said.

"You bet your ass you should have," she said, "I'd have dragged Connie to Florida to help you get ready and then you wouldn't have almost died. So remember that the next time you decide to be all independent and shit."

I was three doughnuts in when I realized that she said she got me back. What the hell did she mean by that?


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Thank you for your good wishes. My surgery is scheduled for tomorrow, so I'm most likely taking a couple of weeks off. I will be back, and I have a rough draft of most of this story done, so I will be posting again soon. Thank you for the reviews! They make me smile!**

We munched on doughnuts until I felt like I was going to be sick. I told them about the wedding, and then we closed the box back up, and I decided to cart the whole thing back to Rangeman. I was hoping Ranger would relax the ban on sweets in order for me to get rid of the 100 or so remaining doughnuts on the cake, without it having a negative impact on my ass.

When I got there Carlos (the little one, not Ranger) was waiting for me with a trolly in the garage to help me haul everything up to the apartment. I fobbed us into the apartment, and once I'd stashed everything but the doughnuts, which I left on the trolly, I opened the box again and said, "Help yourself."

"Yo thanks," he said. He was a lot less angry than the last time I saw him, "By the way, I know you were bullshitting me when you brought me back here last time."

I grinned. He'd taken off, and I lied to him saying he was probably in shit for something more than possession and it was just the excuse the DA had for holding him. The reality was that Ranger is a good man, and he didn't want his nephew to turn out like him. He wanted to keep him out of the system, and that was it.

"Who told you?"

"Santos," he said, "After about two weeks of me not sleeping because I thought I was going to be busted for first-degree murder. He told me that your job was to make reluctant people come in, and you hate your gun, you're small, not in great shape, and you're not especially gifted at hand to hand. To be good at your job you play to your strengths; your tenacity, your gift at bullshitting people and proficiency with a stun gun."

"Remind me to fuck with Lester for a while," I said, "So are you pissed?"

"No," he said, "More like curious."

"Oh?"

"How the hell do you hook up with Uncle Ric? I mean you're pretty and all, but you ain't exactly his type, and why the hell aren't you afraid of him?"

I shrugged, "He's hot, and when I met him I was pissed off and desperate and didn't notice that he was scary until I already knew I could trust him. I think he liked that about me. I wasn't aware that he had a type."

"Aunt Celia said a while back that you aren't like anyone else he's dated in the past. He usually goes for women like Rachel."

About all I knew about Rachel was that she was the mother of an absolutely gorgeous daughter, she was pretty, nice, and had a one night stand with Ranger. He took responsibility for getting her pregnant, and married her to give Julie his name, and give her survivor benefits if something happened to him overseas, but they got divorced not long after she met her new husband, Ron. Ranger provided financial support but gave up any rights he had to Julie so Ron could adopt her. He only just started having more contact with Julie, and he saw her periodically when he was in Florida. After she was kidnapped, I convinced him to spend more time with her, and it seemed to be working out well.

Finding out that I wasn't Ranger's type, should have sent me into a bit of tailspin. I mean there was a moment where my stomach clenched and the doughnuts started not sitting well. Then I remembered something else that was different about me. He told me he loved me, and he married me. I would have to be different, or I doubt I would have caught his attention enough to make him change his anti-commitment stance. The problem with that was that everything was going well right now. Okay there were crazy problems but that pretty much summed up my life, and I was sort of used to it; now that the main crisis was less dire, I was happy. My confidence was high, and all that would need to happen was for it to take a hit, and that comment would jump out to bite me in the ass… I looked at Carlos and gave him a squinty-eyed look, and then I picked up my phone and started scrolling through my contacts, stopping at one, and hit dial.

"Who are you calling?"

"Celia," I said.

"Why?"

"To ask her why she said I wasn't Ranger's type. As far as I know, Ranger's type involves long legs, check, decent breasts, check, and the willingness to fall into bed with him… that one was fifty-fifty for a while because I was having commitment issues, but Ranger likes a challenge."

"Shit!" Carlos said, "Don't call her. Fuck I was trying to…"

"Mind fuck me!" I said, "Seriously dude!"

"Well come on you did it to me!"

The phone picked up, and I hit speaker.

"Pino's; are you calling to book a table or place a takeout order?"

"Yeah I'd like two meatball subs, a garden salad with dressing on the side and an order of cheese fries."

"That you Steph?" Pino said on the phone.

"Yup," I said.

"Welcome back, I was worried about my bottom line for a while with you out of town. When did you want to pick it up?"

"Uh, let's make it for 12:30, it might be Ranger that picks it up, though."

"No problem," he said. I hung up and grinned at Carlos.

"Nice try, though," I said. I sent Ranger a text asking him if he had time to swing by Pinos to pick up our lunch or if it would be better if I got it. He asked me if I ordered already, I gave him the details, and he said he'd get it.

"Fuck," Carlos said.

"People fuck with me all the time little man," I said, "You almost got me, though. The second sub is for you."

"Thanks," he grumbled, "Do you want to know what I found out about Wylitt?"

"Yeah, and start with why Ranger knew he was probably the stripper with the stage name Merlin; I want to pretend I know as much as he does for a change."

"Oh that's because it's one of the last names it's believed Merlin had; I'm betting Wylitt's family dined out on that a lot."

"I would," I said. Carlos handed me the file; he'd put a lot of work into it. It was probably more detailed than something I would do, and I was thorough. From what it looked like, Wylitt was a classically trained dancer who danced with the New York Ballet Company for a while but wasn't going to be the star of the show anytime soon. A flirtatious relationship with THC had relieved him of any particular ambitions, and after discovering he had a talent for gambling, as well as dancing, he decided to become a professional gambler.

He started stripping as a way to bankroll his gambling, and he seemed to be doing not too badly financially. He didn't declare his tips so that we couldn't get that from his tax returns, and part of me wondered if there was a legit way I could get his bank records to see how well he did there, or if we even needed that information. He wasn't in debt, he lived on his tour bus, and his official address was with his sister in Elizabeth, though he was never there. He was 65 with kind brown eyes, a nice smile, and a really great body. According to the file, he didn't dance as much as he used to, but filled in when people were sick, or injured and spent most of his time managing the business that he co-owned with another former stripper. His partner was the front man for the show, and in his early fifties, and still mega hot too.

He'd never been married, had two kids who lived with their mother in Arizona, and he had no record. He'd never been busted for anything.

"He's boy scout," I said.

Carlos nodded, "I even got Santos to make sure I wasn't missing anything, but the dude has never had a speeding ticket. His entire record showed one, just one, parking ticket. He got it when his meter ran out, while his grandmother was dying in the hospital."

"Nobody is that perfect," I said, "But he seems to be on paper doesn't he?"

The smell of marinara filled the apartment about two seconds before I heard the beep of Ranger's key fob.

"So I have to ask you," I said when he walked in, "Have you ever brought in 42 skips in one shot? After a morning's work?"

"No, but I did take out a terror cell while having breakfast one morning, without spilling my coffee."

"Show off," I said, "And you don't drink coffee, you drink tea."

"I drink coffee when I'm undercover," he said.

"No you don't, you drink decaf, and that doesn't count," I said, and Ranger kissed the top of my head and dropped my sub onto the counter next to Wylitt's file. I gave him the run down on Carlos' research.

"Nobody is that perfect," Ranger said, "Unless he's in witness relocation, or an undercover cop and they want him to fly under the radar."

"Why marry grandma then?" I asked, "I mean if he's undercover isn't that a huge breach of protocol?"

Ranger nodded, and looked at the file again, "Doesn't mean it hasn't happened before."

"What did you see at the crime scene?"

"This is where you check out, kid," Ranger said to Carlos, "Take the doughnuts downstairs, and it'll keep the hyenas away from your sub."

"Do me a favor," I said, "Find out everything you can about his dance company; I want customer reviews and everything, not just financials and stuff."

"I want the financials and stuff too," Ranger said.

"Ok," Carlos said, he started to walk away and said, "How do I go about seeing if he has a blog or something?"

"I'll call Hector and get him to grant you access to the programs he uses," Ranger said.

"Start with Google though," I said, "Seriously you'll be surprised what you find. You might even find people who have written about him on their blogs. All of it might be significant."

Carlos left, and Ranger made the phone call to Hector, and then took the lid off of his salad. He went to the fridge and found some cold grilled chicken and sliced some up to add to the salad. He ignored the dressing on the side and added something of Ella's before starting to eat. He did, however, steal some of my cheese fries. Little known fact, cheese fries (especially ones with bacon) can almost always entice Ranger to pollute the temple.

"The ME's report puts the time of death at around the time your grandmother was definitely in Princeton; she alibis out."

"So then it couldn't have been her gun that fired the bullet," I said, "They made a mistake in the ballistics?"

"It's not as exact a science as they make it look on television," he said, "But that's one possibility, I think there is another option. I want to have your grandmother come in to give us a description of the guy who told her about the CSI tour."

"What are you thinking?"

"Wylitt was shot using full metal jackets from a 357 Magnum; the rifle marks suggest they were fired from your grandmother's weapon. A full metal jacket shot into ballistics gel sustains very little damage. If you know what you're doing, have the patience and aren't worried about accuracy, because you are firing at close range, it's possible to reuse the bullets."

"How?"

"There are a couple of ways I can think of off of the top of my head, but they are finicky, and it's easier if you're using shotgun rounds," he said, "Have you ever heard of Chimera?"

"Do you mean the mythical beast?" I asked.

"No," he said, "he's this man, worked Australian Special Forces for a while, became a mercenary, and then he went to the work he really loved and became a hired assassin. He was a legend when I was just starting with the Rangers. One of the things he is said to have done was file down the rifling inside the barrel of his weapons so that they wouldn't leave striations on the bullet. It severely reduces accuracy, but at close range, for an expert, it's a minor annoyance."

"But wouldn't they know it was him anyway if there wasn't anything?" I asked.

"He made sure there were always rifle marks. He liked to go to gun ranges after closing to collect spent rounds, and he'd sort through them to see what was salvageable and then paper patch what he could and use those in his weapons. It's incredibly time-consuming work, and on smaller rounds, a massive pain in the ass; especially if you're going to be using a revolver."

"Why?"

"Just because it is. Most people only paper patch with rifle rounds, because it's easier," He said, "And they don't usually use spent rounds, without melting them down first. He'd clean up the bullet, so they fired properly, but he'd keep the rifling intact. Fire the restored round, and the paper burns up, leaving the old rifling intact and the bullet traces back to another gun. Unless you know what you're looking for, you're not going to be looking at anything but those striations anyway. There were other methods as well, but his preferred method was the paper patch."

"Have you ever done that?" I asked. I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer. He shook his head in the negative.

"There are easier ways to see to it that a gun doesn't get traced back to you."

"Like?"

"Steal a gun, put it in a ziplock and wait a few months until the heat dies down, then use it and leave it at the scene."

"Why the ziplock?"

"So you don't get trace evidence on it," he said. "In those months, the gun could have been sold anywhere, used anywhere. Even if you were in the vicinity on the day of the theft, if you've done your job correctly, they won't be able to prove it was you who took it."

"Good tip," I said, "So why would you go through the hassle of reusing bullets?"

"For the same reason, I have that damned lock in my desk drawer. The challenge keeps the mind active, and it gives you something to do in your free time." Ranger was referring to a supposedly unpickable lock that used a soft key. He worked at it whenever he had time to kill at the office.

"Would you know this guy if you saw him?" I asked him. Ranger shook his head.

"I've only heard stories; he'd have to be in at least his seventies by now, though. Older even," Ranger said.

"You think someone else who's heard the same stories, stole grandma's spent rounds and is setting her up for Wyllit?" I asked.

"I think it's a possibility," he said, "But I want to go back to the crime scene later tonight, so take a nap, because I want you to come with me this time."

"I am going to bed as soon as I finish my sub," I said. Ranger finished his salad and tossed the empty take out container into the trash, stole a few more cheese fries, and waited for me to finish my sub before he peeled off his t-shirt and threw it at me.

"I'll grab another one," he said. I'd fallen into the habit of using Ranger's discarded shirts (provided they weren't gross) as pajamas when he's not going to be in bed with me. I was sort of hoping his suggestion of a nap, meant he was going to take one too; clearly, if he was giving me his t-shirt this wasn't going to be the case. I sighed inwardly; he did have a business to run. His phone rang before he had a chance to go to the bedroom, so I blatantly enjoyed the view for a while, while I waited for him to hang up. He caught me staring, and I made an innocent face and mouthed, 'What?' he shook his head slightly, not smiling exactly, but definitely looking amused.

I was thinking about leaving him alone and going to take my nap, when I thought, 'Screw that, I'm taking advantage of being in the newlywed phase' so I decided to change, right there in the kitchen while he was on the phone. I did it while deliberately being in reach of him. He took the bait far more easily than I was expecting. In fact, he did something that completely stopped me dead in my attempt at seducing him.

While certainly talented in the area of removing women's clothing, he wasn't exactly able to unhook a bra clasp one handed. Instead he picked up a pair of scissors from the knife block on the counter, grabbed me by the front of the bra, drew me closer to him, and then with one efficient snip in between my breasts he cut my bra in half. He put the scissors back down on the counter and then as though he hadn't just shocked the hell out of me, he slid the straps of my bra down my shoulder and continued his conversation.

Have you ever had a moment where you suddenly think, 'Oh fuck, I'm out of my league?' I had those moments a lot with Ranger. In a good way, no doubt, but this was one of those moments. I was attempting to get a rise out of him, and in one, fucking casual, maneuver, he turned me on more than I think I have ever been in my life. He smirked when he caught my eye; he knew I was pretty much done. He won. I couldn't even compete. Then he eyed the scissors like he was thinking of doing the same thing to my underwear that he'd just done to my bra. It wouldn't take much; they were little cotton bikini briefs, nothing special about them, but one snip on each side of my hips and boom they would be gone. Instead, he hung up his phone and called downstairs, "Call St. George and tell him I'm going to be an hour late; something has come up."

He hung up his phone and said, "Worried you were going to have trouble sleeping?"

It took me a second to figure out what he was talking about, and then I found my voice, "That was really hot."

"I can tell," he said, "Do you have a problem you need help with Mrs. Manoso?"

I nodded as he drew me against him.

"You happen to be in luck; I'm highly sought after for my problem-solving abilities," He said, and he kissed me.

When I woke up at four, my first thought was that I didn't want to move because if I moved, that wonderful looseness I was feeling would go away and there would be stress. The bed was so nice with its perfect sheets and perfect mattress. My second thought was that I was developing really messed up sleeping patterns living with Ranger. He was long gone from the bed, having left almost immediately to go to his meeting. I rolled out of bed, and climbed into the glorious shower, with its jets and rain head, and stood there, enjoying the pleasure of the water running over me for a while before getting moving again. When I was finished, I managed to wrestle my hair into a french braid and got dressed in my Rangeman Uniform, minus any footwear or in fact any socks.

I went to get myself a bowl of cereal and heard Ranger moving around his office, and not down on five. I bypassed the kitchen and went to see what he was doing. "So I was thinking in the shower, about this Chimera guy," I said, Ranger's eyes flickered from his iPad to me, in acknowledgment that he was paying attention. "He used spent rounds; does that mean that it's possible the police thought there were multiple shooters on a scene when it was really just him?"

"That was the whole idea," Ranger said, "Use misdirection to cause as much confusion as possible, and they are going to overlook any mistakes you may have made."

"Huh," I said, "Do the police know about him?"

"I'd be very surprised if they did," Ranger said, "Like I said, he's getting up there. If he's still around, he's not very active."

"You think it's more likely that someone has taken a page out of his playbook."

He nodded. "This is a major long shot, Babe. I might be seeing something I want to see because I've always wondered if this guy was real."

"Like, he's your hero or something? Or is it a Sherlock/Moriarty thing?"

His smirk was noncommittal. I didn't know if I should be afraid of this Chimera guy or not. Ranger was pretty much the best at everything, and if he believed that this guy was a legend, and really good, then I was definitely out of my league. Again. It was getting to be a habit.

I walked around his desk, he wasn't using his computer and was going over crime scene reports, making notes on a pad, while he read the digital files on his iPad. I sat on his lap and logged onto the computer, and Googled, Assassin Chimera. Ranger wasn't concerned at all by the sudden inconvenience of my ass on his lap. Instead, he simply switched his iPad and pen from his left hand to his right and rested the now free hand, on my belly. I suppose it was convenient being ambidextrous, and I wondered if he ever took that for granted, or if every time he switched hands, he felt a little smug. I glanced back at him; there was no showy-offishness in his expression, just intense concentration; I was clearly relegated to the status of happy afterthought.

I turned my attention back to the computer. There wasn't a lot on Chimera; I tried a few different search phrases, and all I turned up was one site that said he was probably just a ghost story told to scare bad guys. The page spoke about the three crimes that authorities claimed they knew were Chimera hits. The first was a diplomat who appeared to have committed suicide but it was widely believed he'd pissed off Chimera in some way and Chimera ended his life. The site debunked this theory by coming up with multiple reports of previous suicide attempts, severe alcohol abuse, and depression. It seemed more likely that the diplomat had finally succeeded.

The second man was hit by a bus. Many witnesses stated that he was standing at the bus stop reading his newspaper when a man walked by and shoved him in the path of the bus. One witness described the man as having one green eye and one brown, and he had a Chimera tattoo on the back of his wrist. It later turned out that this witness was the husband of the woman the victim was having an affair with. He was the only one to have seen this Chimera Tattoo, and the blogger figured it was more likely that the real killer was the cuckolded husband.

The final case was a little closer to the mark. A little closer to what Ranger had described as his method. A woman came home early from a party one night; she'd taken a taxi and promised to call one of her girlfriends to let her know she was home safe. She walked into her kitchen picked up the phone and called the friend. In the statement the friend gave, she answered the phone and heard a man with an accent she thought sounded like it could be English, say, 'I have a message for you from, Cory.' She then heard three gunshots, and then the man picked up the phone and said, 'You are going to want to call the police now. Tell them they don't need to put a rush on the ambulance; she's already dead. You're going to tell them that Cory has a storage locker near Brentwood, where they are going to find all the evidence they need to convict him.' He hung up. They had an exact time of death, but the ballistics matched a gun that was locked in an evidence locker on the other side of the country.

This was the only case the site couldn't debunk, save to say that just because someone used one of his many supposed MOs didn't mean that it was him. "Ranger," I said, "Read this." He spun his chair slightly so he could see the computer screen better. I had to shift a bit on his lap so I could still see the screen.

He scrolled through the page and said, "The first one was a suicide. His note was a home video where he confessed to the litany of mistakes he'd made that brought him there. Then he killed himself in front of the camera."

"How do you know that?" I said.

"I was asked to come look at the scene because they had reason to believe it was a hit," Ranger said. "Turns out the wife hid the video because if it were a murder and not suicide, then she would get a big life insurance payout."

"And the second?" I asked.

"No idea, but historically that's not his style; he likes to take his time planning a kill. Waiting for someone to be waiting for a bus, hoping he stands close enough to the edge of the sidewalk so that you can push him off the curb into the path of a big vehicle, is a crime of opportunity. It's possible he got lucky and thought, what the hell, but it's more likely the website is correct. The last one sounds like him. This blogger, is right though, anyone who's been in Special Forces has probably heard of this guy, and it would be a good way to pin it on someone who may not even exist.

"Why did they ask you to come in and investigate the suicide?" I asked.

"Because, for a while people thought I might be him," he said, "Until I pointed out that I was four when Chimera was working as a Merc. The authorities, who thought it might be him, came to me to get an alibi and when I had one, they asked me to look at the scene to see if I could find a calling card. The victim was in deep with several organizations."

"Does he leave a calling card?" I asked.

"I'm not aware of one. I said I'd go mainly because I was curious," Ranger said. He put his hand under my shirt and flat against my belly his thumb grazed my ribcage and said, "I'm thinking that I may spend more evenings working up here; there are certain perks."

I grinned, "When are we checking out the crime scene?"

"Soon," he said with a sigh, meaning even though he was interested in getting friendly again, we probably didn't have time to get bust right now.

"What are we doing exactly?" I asked.

"We're going to break into the house where Wylitt's body was found and we're going to take a closer look at this." Still with the one hand under my shirt, he used his free hand to scroll through some crime scene photos on his iPad. He came to a picture of a chintz sofa that looked like it had a bunch of cigarette burns on the arm. He zoomed in on the burn side of the sofa and focused on a bit of melted upholstery that looked like it had been grazed by something hot, like a freshly fired bullet perhaps?

There was another melted spot on the edge of the back cushion. If you weren't looking very, very, closely you probably wouldn't even notice the mark, given there were several other burn marks of varying age on that particular arm of the sofa, like its previous owner liked stubbing out his cigarettes on the furniture.

Ranger checked his watch, "We'll eat and then we'll go," he said.

Cereal was not on the menu for dinner after all. Instead, Ella had created stuffed chicken breasts filled with feta, roasted red peppers and kalamata olives, and she'd served it with green beans and quinoa. If I could cook like this, I'd have no problem eating healthy meals. Now if only I could convince Ranger that mayo was allowed on the sandwiches in the break room, I'd be laughing.

We ate dinner in comfortable silence. When were in Florida, we never ate at the dining room table; it felt too domestic, even if it was before we were going to conduct a heist. I think my primary concern at that time was probably more along the lines of the fact that if I allowed myself to get too comfortable with Ranger, I'd get my heart broken since, at that point, we weren't really planning to get married. By the time we decided that we wanted to get married for real, it was habit to eat on the pool deck and not in the dining room. At Haywood it was different, now we were married, and that fear was gone, having a quiet dinner with him, was comfortable.

When we were done eating, we loaded the dishwasher and turned it on, before I went to find shoes and Ranger did whatever prep he needed to do. Forty minutes later we were parked two blocks away from the house in question. The houses were lower middle class but well maintained; it was clear that the people here worked hard for not very much. They were law abiding citizens, and the sight of crime scene tape and a police presence was likely very disturbing. Before we left, Ranger suggested that maybe, given where we were going, we'd blend in more if I wasn't in my uniform. So I switched to a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and Keds. He switched to a pair of black jeans and a gray henley. I was always thrown when Ranger didn't wear all black. Sure gray wasn't that different, but still, it was interesting. There was a strong part of me that wanted to see what he'd look like in real colors. Like green or maybe a blue-gray.

"Not going to happen, Babe," he said, reading my mind.

"Oh come on, why not?"

"It's not my thing," he said. "When we get to the house, I'm going to boost you up to a window that will take you directly into the pantry. I'm going to come in after you; we'll be leaving the same way, so if someone shows up, we make for that same pantry."

"Quick question, how am I supposed to be opening this window?"

"I unlocked it earlier today and put a penny on the track so it can't close all the way. If someone found it and locked it, which I doubt, we'll go to plan B."

"Don't feel like picking locks today?"

"Don't want to break the tape on the door."

Good point. We got to a house that wasn't the scene of the crime. It was a vacant house that was for sale; he bumped the lock on the front door and we went through the house to the backyard and over the fence that this property shared with the crime scene. He boosted me up, and as promised the window slid up easily in its track. Ranger grasped the ledge and hoisted himself up effortlessly. He handed me a pair of latex gloves, and we each pulled on a set. He then wiped the sill for prints, and we went out into the kitchen. The chances of us needing to worry about other forensic countermeasures were pretty slim since they were going to be releasing the crime scene in a day or so, and probably weren't coming back to gather more evidence. We wanted in to get to it before whoever lived here had a chance to come back and tamper with things.

I walked around the single-story house, which looked pretty much like the set of All in the Family. Everything was extremely dated from the burnt orange and green paisley wallpaper to the yellowing formica countertops, warped oak cabinets, and brass knobs.

In the living room, Ranger flicked on a lamp and bent down to examine the sofa. The poor beleaguered couch, looked worse in person than it did in the pictures. The bad polyester chintz was stained as well as burnt. In front of it was a coffee table whose sole purpose seemed to be supporting an enormous, overflowing black and green ashtray. The house smelled of stale cigarettes, cat pee, and cheap whiskey. It was unpleasant, to say the least, and I was glad I hadn't grown up here.

Ranger did his thing while I watched the windows. At one point he picked up one of the back cushions of the sofa, and with a pair of oversized tweezers he pulled out a slug from the back and dropped it into a bag, then he took a small scalpel and scraped the inside of the hole, and put that into another bag. He pocketed both and looked down at the floor for something, anything else, of interest. He was about to start looking through the desk, when I said, "Ranger, can you take pictures of all of the pictures?"

"Why?"

"No particular reason," I said.

"We have a limited window; I'll get what I can, but we have to be out of here in five minutes." He killed the light in the living room and continued his search via flashlight.

He didn't find anything in the desk, or anywhere else he looked; the police had taken pretty much everything of interest already. He did, however, take the pictures I asked for just as I saw headlights pull up in front of the house. "We've got company," I said.

"Right on time," Ranger said, "Let's go."

We went back to the pantry, and Ranger went out the window first, taking the penny he'd left in the track, with him. Followed him, and he held me up while I slid the window closed and we went back out through the backyard, and through the other house.

When we got back to Rangeman, Ranger took me down to the basement, where the gun range was, and next to it, a small lab. "Don't tell me you know how to run complete ballistics tests," I said.

"What Chimera does, is extremely dangerous," Ranger said, "The internal stress on a jacketed bullet can cause it to fragment once it's been fired a second time, making the next shot, not such a good idea."

"But you say he's rumored to have done this more than once?" I said.

"If he's got a signature; that's it."

"How do we know he's never had a problem before?" I asked.

"We don't," Ranger said, "We don't know anything much about him at all."

"Can you tell if the bullet has been fired twice?" I asked.

"No, but I can make a comparison between a 357 slug that's been fired once, and this one to see if there are any readily visible differences. If not, I'll get an expert in to compare the two."

Ranger put the evidence he'd gathered onto the workbench and went out to the range. He found a 357 that looked a lot like grandma's, in the weapons locker and loaded it with the same type of ammo that he'd recovered from the sofa, and proceeded to empty it into a foam block at the end of the range. Then he retrieved the block, and we recovered the bullets.

Aside from the obvious differences in rifling, there was no real difference in appearance between the rounds. "Now we get the experts in, I guess."

"Yes we do," Ranger said.

"Do we have a full ballistics report already?" I asked.

"Just the preliminary stuff, why?"

"Maybe Joe has it?" I said, "Would they look at metal stress?"

"They might," Ranger said. I pulled out my phone and called Morelli.

"I'm busy Cupcake," Joe said, "I've got another body, shot with a 357 that I'm willing to bet looks like it came from your grandmother's gun, and since it's been in an evidence locker, it can't be hers."

"Do you have a full ballistics report from the Wylitt shooting?" I asked.

"No. It's only been a few days, what do you want from me?"

"Were any of the slugs mostly intact?"

"He was shot three times, and only one of the slugs survived, the others shattered on impact, the ME thinks bad ammo."

Ranger was listening to the call as well, and he nodded. "Have you ever heard of a hired gun named Chimera?"

Joe sighed, "No," he said, "Are you telling me, he is my killer?"

"No, I'm saying that someone might be using his MO. Ranger says this guy liked to reuse ammo when he could, paper patch it, and fire it from a gun that's had it's rifling filed down."

Joe was silent for a couple of beats, "Does he have a hint as to the identity of this Chimera?"

"He's probably Australian, and he might not exist, and for a while, people thought Chimera and Ranger were the same person," I said.

"And he can prove he's not?"

"He was still in diapers when Chimera was most active. He says the man has to be in his sixties or seventies, at least."

"I don't know how helpful that information is, but I'll look into it. It might explain how one gun can be in two places at the same time."

"Who is this latest victim?" I asked.

"Would it be breaking sanctuary if I just brought everything to you in a few hours?" Joe asked. He sounded tired.

I looked at Ranger; he wasn't comfortable with that. He wasn't thrilled with the idea of inviting PD into his building. "Why don't we just meet at my apartment?"

"Works for me," Joe said. He hung up.

"He's unusually co-operative," I said to Ranger.

"Which is why I don't want him in here," Ranger said. Fair enough.

"Oh, that reminds me, I have something to show you!" I said, "Grandma gave us a wedding present."

"I'm afraid."

"No it's cool," I said. We went back upstairs, and I opened the Wonder Woman box, and he grinned.

"You need to put that on your desk," he said.

"Yeah, but then Lester would stare at her all day and never get anything done."

"I was thinking about giving you an office if you decided to be more than just contract."

I needed to think about that. I had a certain amount of independence still. I was going to give notice on my place and everything, and I didn't think our marriage was about to implode, but it was one thing to work with Ranger on a semi-regular basis as a contract hire, and another thing to actually work for him. First of all, it was a bit of a cheat, given that half my shit was his now, so he was paying himself twice. Second, it would put him in a position of dominance over me, when while he was badass, and way better at the job than I was, I never felt like he thought of himself as above me.

"You're thinking about this way too hard, Babe," he said, "I've been trying to get you to work here for years; it's not a pity hire. I want your skills."

"I don't want you to be my boss," I said.

Ranger actually laughed then, really laughed. "I can promise you, that in no way at any time, have I ever been delusional enough to think I have been able to exercise any control over you. Influence, yes, but control? No."

"You did in Miami," I said, "You said, 'I'm saying this as your boss, and not your boyfriend' which would lead me to believe that at the time you certainly saw me as an employee."

"Special circumstances," he said, "I was surprised you didn't immediately balk at it. I chalked it up to the fact that you were still feeling like shit."

"I don't know what I want to do, Ranger," I said, "I really don't. Do I have to make a decision right now?"

"No, but why don't I give you a job description so you can weigh your options. It's the same job I've been trying to get you to take for a while now."

"Fine," I said. He chuckled again, "What?"

"Mentor, yes. Friend, yes. Occasional teacher, yes. Lover, definitely. Boss? Never in a million years."

"So how do you see your role in my professional life, if I work for Rangeman?"

"Same as it's always been, Babe. The only difference between now and before is that you'd be on the payroll and not a contract worker, and you'd have an office," he said.

"There is another thing to worry about, though," I said.

"What's that?"

"You aren't friends with your employees," I said, "That would be a big bummer. I like being your friend."

"Just my friend?" He asked, with a smirk.

"Well one with certain benefits," I said, "Benefits that probably violate some company policies about sexual harassment or workplace fraternization."

"I don't think it counts as sexual harassment if the overtures are made by one spouse to the other. As for fraternization, we don't have a policy against it."

"Really?" I said.

"Not stupid enough to shoot myself in the foot with that sort of rule when, as I've said, I've been trying to get you to work for me on a full-time basis for years."

"You always have a plan don't you?" I teased.

"It's the way I'm built, Babe," he said, "But I can improvise when the situation requires it."

"Multitalented," I said, "Let me see the offer, and promise me you won't be pissed if I turn you down."

"I understand your objections and will respect any decision you make. I'll probably still give you an office, though, so you can spread your shit out in there, and I don't have to see it and develop an eye twitch while you go through your process."

"Square deal," I said.

 _AN: So I am by no means any kind of weapons expert; any ballistics stuff I have run by a friend who has a brother who is a weapons tech. I have no expertise of my own, and I have relied heavily on google and YouTube for a lot of my forensics stuff. So if any of you are actual experts, I beg you to suspend reality a little and just go for the entertainment value of it._


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: I'm back and Happy Thanksgiving! I'm mostly healed and I am ready to get back to writing! It may take me a bit to get back in the swing of things, so bear with me.**

Ranger printed the job offer off for me and I read it while I waited for Morelli to text saying he was on his way to my apartment. I was lying on the sofa with my legs hanging over one of the arms reading; the Food Network was on in the background, while Ranger did whatever work he had to do in his office.

The offer was good. I would be the on staff private investigator and I'd assist whenever they had a female client, or they were in need of a woman on a takedown. I would still be able to skip trace for Vinnie, and I'd be put in charge of that aspect of the business as well. This would leave Ranger free to focus on the government contracts and the rest of Rangeman's services. I'd have my own office, and as much access to Rangeman's resources as I would like.

My starting salary was surprisingly not ridiculously high. It seemed pretty fair actually, and there were bonuses for high value jobs upon completion, as well as hazard pay and an expense account. It was when I got to the benefits package that I paused. I knew for a fact that I was covered by Rangeman for Health and Dental, but the package that was supposedly a standard benefits package clearly stipulated that what I was currently getting was only available to full time employees. Ranger followed his own rules, and he wasn't afraid to break the law here and there when it was warranted, but insurance fraud didn't seem like something he'd do. I mean why do that when he could have just taken out a policy on me if he was so worried about my coverage? Whenever I got hurt he came to the hospital and he always handled the paperwork. Was that why? So I wouldn't see that I wasn't actually covered by Rangeman?

I swung my legs over the side of the sofa, in an attempt to sit up gracefully forgetting for a moment that I wasn't exactly agile, or really even that limber and instead of righting myself I rolled right off of the sofa and landed face down on the rug with a dignified thump.

"Nice," Ranger said, from the direction of the office.

"I try," I said, my voice muffled by the rug. I forgot about grace and lumbered to my feet. Shook myself off and carried the policy in to Ranger's office.

"So what gives? This is pretty much exactly what I have now, and I shouldn't. It says right here in black and white."

"Thanks for reminding me," Ranger said, he spun his desk chair so he was facing his computer instead of his iPad and he sent an email to the insurance provider, letting them know we were married, and he attached a digital copy of our marriage certificate, and then sent an email to his lawyer, before he went back to his iPad.

"Well?" I prompted.

"I found a loophole," he said.

"What kind of loophole?" I asked.

"If you read the policy, you'll note that benefits can be offered to common law spouses, you're listed, on the insurance, as my common law spouse."

"Ranger! I was practically engaged to Morelli forever! That's…"

"Nowhere in the documents does is say we have to be in a monogamous relationship, or even living together. You're listed on all legal documents as my next of kin, and you're the main beneficiary of two separate life insurance policies, and in the event of my death, according to my will you're to receive a sizeable chunk of my estate."

"RANGER!"

"You knew you were next of kin," he said.

"Yeah but…" He was crazy. He's been protecting me from crazies for all of these years, afraid to be in a relationship with me because of the danger I might be in if anybody knew, and there I was, on official documents, basically his spouse, for who knows how long.

"The documents are confidential," Ranger said, "Only a handful of people know about them, for your protection. It's moot now anyway."

I wanted to argue that, because it was hardly moot. It mattered a lot to me. If I'd known this years ago when he did it, I might have done things a hell of a lot differently. Ranger was rubbing off on me though because he was right. It didn't matter anymore, no sense dwelling on the past, except for the fact that this information made me want to forget about work and kiss him a lot. A feeling I went with and I practically tackled him, earning a smile before he took over.

We were both shirtless and I was straddling Ranger in his desk chair, when Morelli called. If grandma wasn't involved in this, I would have let it go to voice mail, otherwise I doubt there was anything else that could have taken my attention away from the way Ranger was kissing my throat. He groaned in protest when I pulled away to pick up the phone. I grinned; the man was insatiable. I dismounted and answered while I looked for the t-shirt Ranger made disappear.

Ten minutes later we met Morelli in the lobby of my old building. He had Bob with him, and he was carrying a pizza and a six pack. "Is there something I should know?" I asked.

"He chewed Bella's favorite purse and she's cursed him," Morelli said, "And by cursed, I mean she fed him a laxative. I think he's pretty much cleaned out, but according to my mom, it wasn't pretty, and I don't want to risk a literal shit storm, if I leave him alone for any extended period of time over the next twenty four hours."

I looked down at Bob, who was looking a little pathetic. Hell he didn't even care that Morelli was holding a pizza, part of me was worried he might be dying. "I Figured it was best to pick up dinner before I went home, so he wasn't alone," Joe said when he saw me eye the pizza.

I scratched the dog's head and we went for the elevator. We were all acutely aware of the oddness of the situation. Sure we had ridden the elevator like this countless times, but before I was with Morelli, and it was Ranger who had to be hands off. The elevator ride was awkward to say the least and I was glad we were only going up one floor. We got to my door and Morelli handed me the pizza and beer, while Ranger took point and they cleared the apartment. It was habit by now, for both of them, and I didn't really blame them. I mean some crazy appeared to have something out for members of my family. I had no doubt at all that I would eventually be a target. Bob and I waited in the kitchen for them to quell their paranoia, and I pulled off a piece of paper towel from the roll, and served up a slice for Joe. I still had dog food from Bob's last visit, but considering the laxative, I didn't think it wise to give him any, so I served him up a bowl of water.

They came back to the kitchen and Joe offered Ranger a beer, which Ranger accepted, before Joe cracked one of his own.

"First thing's first, Edna is cleared of all charges, including the weapons violation," Joe said.

I let out a sigh of relief at that. "Now what about Wylitt?"

"He was murdered with a known member of the Gambizi Crime family. The man's name was Rupert Gibbons."

The name didn't ring any bells, "What were his ties to Wylitt?"

"None that we know of, but your grandmother claims that he definitely knew Gibbons. As for these latest vics, employees of Harry. Specifically the men in charge of some of his New York interests. According to our sources, they were in Trenton to meet with the representative of an up and coming family, the head of which we know nothing about besides the fact that this person is referred to as W.B."

"As in Warner Brothers?" I said.

"As in Wrecking Ball," Joe said, "This guy is not into keeping with the status quo, and from what I understand, the Feds are happier with the devil they know. This guy is changing all of the rules and they want him off of the streets yesterday."

"How is he changing the rules?" I asked. Joe took a swig of beer, his knuckles whitening slightly on the neck of the bottle, as he tried to keep his cool. I was fairly certain he wasn't pissed with me for asking the questions, or maybe he was fighting instinct, given that in the past he was happier with holding information.

"I'm not privy to that information," he said with barely unclenched teeth, "But when I was undercover, I got the distinct impression that Leo Rinaldi was nervous about this guy. There were a lot of meetings to discuss whether it would be prudent to join forces with some of the other families to take the bastard out, or if it would be smarter to seek an alliance. This guy is scary enough that nobody wants to take him on by themselves, and it doesn't make it easier that only a handful of people have ever seen this bastard."

"What makes him so special?" I asked, "He's one guy."

"He knows things that only someone on the inside would know. The only way he can get information is if he has moles in every organization, so nobody knows who the hell to trust, and it's destabilized everything." Joe took another long pull on his beer and sighed. He looked tired, "Listen, the Feds are screwing me on this one. They want me to do their legwork for them, but they aren't telling me anything. All I know is that it has to do with the damned video I shot, and I don't have a copy of it. Every time I try to dig for more information, I get shut down, I figure you guys won't have the same problem."

"Why are you being so helpful?" I asked.

"Because four people are dead and they know why, and every second they withhold information from me, this case grows colder."

"Who is aware of the fact that Edna was detained on a concealed weapons charge?" Ranger asked, changing tack.

"Nobody," Joe said, "Well the boys in Princeton, and myself."

"What concerns me the most at this time, is that someone is trying to set Edna up," Ranger said, "She's a pain in the ass, but she's a harmless, and well liked pain in the ass."

"Here's another thing," I said, "Grandma's gun is almost never loaded."

"What?" Morelli said incredulously, "She shot the ass off of a chicken at a family dinner."

"Yeah, and since then, every night before he goes to bed, dad takes the gun out of grandma's handbag and gets rid of the ammo. Mom's terrified grandma is going to try to fire the damn thing and break a hip. It works great because whenever she does pull the gun, she just thinks she forgot to load it."

"Yeah, but she's got a shit load of ammo in her bedroom," Joe said, "you can't be sure."

"Dad replaced them with blanks. She has no idea and just thinks she can't hit the broad side of a barn," I said. Mom was worried about grandma breaking a hip. Dad was worried about her trying to shoot her way into bathroom if he took too long in the morning.

"So the only time she could have left those bullets anywhere, was at this thing in Nevada?" Joe said.

"Unless she bought more ammo, which I doubt," I said, "She's been spending her social security checks on other things lately."

"The fact that you didn't specify what, scares me a little," Joe said with a ghost of a smile, "What do we know about this CSI Experience?"

"It doesn't exist," Ranger said, "I checked it out; I wanted to see if they had surveillance footage we could use. The building in question belongs to a guy named Fred Wozniak, and Fred says he's not been able to find a tenant for it in years, because of it's remote location. I have a contact in the area that will be driving him out there tomorrow, with a team, so they can process the location."

"If they find anything, it won't be admissible in court," Joe said.

"Yes it will," Ranger said, "He's a Federal Crime Scene Investigator. He's going to make sure everything is done by the book."

Bob started making strange whining noises and Joe cursed before tossing his slice into the pizza box and snapping Bob's leash on him. "I'll be back for my pizza," he said, "Keep me in the loop on this. The bodies are starting to pile up and I don't like how this feels like it's personal."

Bob tried to drag Morelli to the door, and Joe took off at a jog.

"We're not really going to keep him in the loop are we? I mean we're not going to tell him about our little adventure are we?" Ranger tugged a random free curl and half smiled.

"Given that he'd probably leap at any chance to put me behind bars, I'm not really all that interested in confessing to breaking and entering. I'm good with keeping him need to know; we'll just give him more than the feds are giving him. Do you want to stay here tonight?" This question was followed up immediately by him picking me up and putting my ass on the counter. It was a good a place as any to contemplate the dilemma he put in front of me.

Here had a nearby bed, a bathtub and a better cable package than Ranger had. Haywood had Ella, Ranger's sheets, and a lot of my stuff. "About that," I said, "Living arrangements… I'm giving up my apartment because it's just dumb for us to have two within five minutes of each other and one with virtually no security."

"But…"

"Have you ever successfully lived with anyone who wasn't family, before?" Just one of the many niggling problems that were rolling around in my head. I didn't have the best track record with roommates. Living with other people tends to drive me crazy; my most successful roommate was a rodent. Ranger was as used to living alone as I was, and I don't know how good he was going to be at sharing space.

"Can't say that I have even successfully lived with family either. You and I did well in Florida though," he said.

"Yeah, where everything was neutral and we weren't trying to blend our crap," I said, "I have a drawer in your bathroom, and you have one in mine, and we share closet space… what about the rest of my stuff? The furniture I don't really care about but…"

"It's my place, not yours and you're worried about invading," he said, "Have you got a solution in mind for this problem?"

"No," I said.

"Would you like to look for a different place?"

"Would you still sleep at Haywood?" I asked.

"There would be times when it would be more practical, yes."

"A lot of times?" I asked.

He gave a minute shrug, "If we had a house, I'd make an effort to go home most nights, but the job is unpredictable, and I'd be willing to bet that I'd stay at Haywood at least one night a week. How much energy do you want to devote to living arrangements?"

"Honestly? I don't know," I said, "Maybe it's just because I still have my place, that your place doesn't feel like ours. I've never had a problem moving in whenever I needed to before, but somehow it feels different, like because it's my place now too, I should say something about the way it looks. The problem with that is, I'm not that domestic, so I don't know what I want."

Generally speaking, when I babble like this, Ranger dons an amused expression, so I wouldn't have been surprised if my somewhat confused attitude towards our living arrangements, would have at least elicited a slight smile. It didn't this time, he was taking my rambling seriously, so maybe it wasn't just me that was finding the transition to life back in Trenton, and the apparent sameness of it all, a little confusing. When I got married the first time, there was a whole big deal to be made. We had to set up house, we were blending our lives and it was all exciting for about twenty minutes, but it felt like I was making a big change. This, oddly didn't feel like a big change, the start of a new life together, it felt right, and natural, and easy, and nothing in my life works like that.

"For now, decide what you want to bring to Haywood, and what you want to keep here, and let Ella handle putting it away. I don't give a shit what you do to the apartment if you decide it needs changing; I just don't like clutter, or anything busy, and I'll kick your ass if you put your gun in the cookie jar."

I chewed my lip for a second, "There's something else we need consider. My mother is going to have a fit if we don't have wedding china, and people are going to want to buy us wedding presents."

"Shit," Ranger said.

"I'm sorry, my family is crazy, and…"

"No, my mother is going to be the same way," Ranger said, sounding resigned.

"We don't need anything," I said, "Between the two of us, and by that I mean, mostly you, we have everything, so I don't know what…" We were interrupted by my cell phone ringing, and I looked down at the read out, to see my mother's number. Okay there is no way this was happening. It was way to coincidental. I showed Ranger the phone and he cocked an eyebrow.

"Do you think our mothers bugged the apartment?" I asked.

"I'll have someone sweep the place tomorrow."

I answered and gave her the good news about grandma being off the hook.

"Well of course Joseph fixed the problem. As soon as she came in the door I knew there was nothing more to worry about.. I'm not calling about your grandmother anyway. I just had a long conversation with Alita Manoso and we're thinking that June should be a good month for a reception, either that or we hold off until the Fourth of July, when everyone will be in town anyway."

"What reception?" I asked stupidly. I could feel a knot forming in my stomach. Not quite the full gut clenching panic attack that I had when we were talking about our fake wedding, not so long ago, but it had potential to get there.

"Your wedding reception," mom said, "Now, I'm going to need to know which of your friends you would like to invite. We're going to have to keep non family at a minimum since the two families are so large. From what I understand the Manosos and Santos families make the Plum family look quite small so we were thinking we should keep the non family to about thirty people at the most."

"Mom," I interrupted, as I felt a headache start. Little guys with pitchforks, were just trying to decide which area of the back of my eyeballs would make the best targets. I put my finger on my eyelid to preempt the twitch that I knew I was going to develop "We eloped so we didn't have to worry about this stuff. We don't want a big wedding reception."

"It's not really your choice now is it?" mom snapped.

"Mom, it's my wedding; it's a little bit my choice. We don't want…"

"This is what's going to happen Stephanie; you are going to register for gifts, and you are going to show up when we tell you, wearing what we tell you, and you are going to let people show you they care about you, and you're going to have to live with it."

"Mom, you and dad already paid for a big wedding and…"

"It's not a request. I'll give you two dates, you choose one, and.."

"What if Ranger doesn't want to have a big reception?" I asked.

"He'll have one, because you want one," mom said.

"But I don't…"

"Yes. You do," Mom said and hung up. Okay, grandma was safe, everything was right in mom's world again, and I was firmly back in the dog house.

"So I'm thinking," I said to Ranger, "If we act quickly, you should be able to open a branch in Seattle. It's a big city, I'm sure you have connections there. I'll come work for you, and we will be too busy getting that facility up and running to come home for any reception."

"It rains too much in Seattle," Ranger said.

"Then pick a city," I snapped.

"It might just be easier to suck it up for a day," he said with a smirk.

"Easy for you to say," I said, "I'm under no illusions about the fact that you are going to come with me to register for presents. I can barely get you into a mall, when you're protecting me. I'm going to register for a bunch of crap, we don't need, and…"

"Ella," Ranger said, "Take Ella. You pick out what you want, and leave the rest to Ella. She knows what's due to be replaced anyway."

"Please tell me you pay her a lot," I said.

"She makes more than Tank," Ranger said.

We went back to Haywood that night and it felt like my head was just hitting the pillow when Ranger was waking me up, to go to work. He was an awesome alarm, and he put a smile on my face, but it did nothing for my compounding exhaustion or the fact that  
I got dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, bypassed everybody and went straight to the car. Breakfast was going to be a breakfast sandwich and a vat of coffee. When I got to the office I picked up Lula to ride shotgun and distribute food, while I drove. We hit the McDonald's drive thru and ordered about twenty pounds worth of Egg McMuffins and hashbrowns. I got a mango smoothie and a coffee to go with my share of the feast, Lula opted for a milkshake.

I chugged my coffee like the life sustaining nectar that it was, and stifled a yawn while Lula unwrapped a breakfast sandwich for me. I was beat, and I really needed to reset my body clock. Maybe what I needed was to establish a routine. Maybe I should program my phone to remind me when to eat, and when to sleep, at a reasonable time. No more lunch at 3:00 in the afternoon, and dinner at 5:00 and then up until god knows when only to roll out of bed anywhere from 4:30 to noon, depending on when the hell I fell into bed. Ranger never looked tired, and he stuck as close to a routine as possible. Maybe that was the secret.

"You know what's funny?" Lula said, and I glanced at her as I took a bite of my sandwich, while navigating the morning rush hour.

"What?"

"Connie and me, we could always tell when you was sleeping with Batman, because you look different. I figured out what it is, you don't have the stamina to keep up with Ranger. I bet that's why he's always pushing you to get more exercise, he's afraid of killing you."

"It's the morning sex," I said, and yawned again, "Ranger wakes me up an hour before my caffeine addiction has a chance to kick in. It's fine and I'm not complaining, but then I go back to sleep and my whole system is screwed up."

"See now I always thought he'd be more of a stay up all night kind of guy," Lula said.

"He does that too," I said.

"Damn girl, how are you walking?" Lula asked.

"I started taking Pilates in Florida."

"I can get behind that," Lula said, "Yo, we should take a class together."

"Sure," I said, "Find us a class." It was an easy thing to agree with, mostly because I figured there was a snowball's chance in hell that either of us would actually go. I finished my sandwich and wiped my mouth with a paper napkin, proud that I managed not to get much more than crumbs on my shirt, and slurped my smoothie. I was battling serious brain freeze, the kind that flash freezes your sinuses, and paralyzes your lungs making you think you are for sure going to die, when we pulled into the driveway of our first skip of the day.

Her name was Crystal Beires, she was 37 with two school aged children who would just be off to school now. With any luck I could get her rescheduled and back home before the kids needed to be picked up. Connie was already on standby. We got out of the car and walked up to the door. The yard was neatly manicured and the gardens had been freshly turned, and there were brown paper bags of bulbs on the ground outside, with a trowel and gloves. I knocked on the door and Crystal opened the it. She had a small baby bump, on wide set hips, and a little tank top, with spaghetti straps covering what Val called pregnant boobs. They looked like a pair of over inflated, veiny balloons. Crystal and Val were in high school together and I knew her fairly well, and wasn't expecting trouble.

She'd been picked up for shoplifting $300 worth of groceries. She was doing her shopping and sorting her groceries into reusable grocery bags, when she got hit by a wave of morning sickness and bolted to the bathroom. When she was done tossing her cookies, she'd forgotten that she hadn't paid for her groceries and walked out of the store. The manager called the police and they arrested her as she was loading the groceries into the trunk of her car. She explained her mistake and offered to pay for the groceries, saying she hadn't meant to steal the groceries, it had just happened because she was hoping to get home before the morning sickness hit again, and she forgot. The police had just about managed to convince the hard ass store manager that it was okay, when she projectile vomited on the managers $500 shoes, and he pressed charges.

"Hey Steph, what's up?" she asked when she saw me and Lula.

"Baby brain's a bitch isn't it?" I said.

"Yeah, but what's that got to do with why you're here?" She asked.

"You missed your court date," I said.

She looked completely flummoxed by this revelation, "Steph I'm not due in court until June 14th, I had to reschedule my ultrasound because it was supposed to be on the same day."

"I have a bench warrant and the apprehension papers right here," I said. She took them and waved us inside.

"Steph, I'm telling you, this is a mistake," she said. "I'll come with you if I have to, but Mike Soules is my lawyer, and he'd have told me if I'd missed my court date, and he was here last night."

I had a bad feeling about this, and glanced at Lula. She had a look on her face that pretty much summed up how I felt. Like maybe today was going to be an enormous pain in the ass. "Maybe you should call Mike," I said.

I looked at Lula and Crystal invited us through her house, into her kitchen. Crystal and Val had been good friends growing up, but she wasn't nearly as uptight as Val. Her house was tidy but lived in, but clearly the kids were winning the battle that morning. She had a pile of laundry on the floor outside the laundry room, and she had a laundry basket perched on her hip, that she kept pitching toys into, as she walked through the house. In the living room the cushions from the sofa were arranged into a fort. She offered us coffee while she called Soules, a guy I actually went to a dance with in Junior High School.

About 20 minutes later Soules got to the house and came inside. He was still sorta cute looking, he was a bit soft around the middle, and he had a dimpled, genuine smile, an expensive grey suit and the tired eyes of someone working his ass off at a good law firm.

"Hey Steph, long time," he said, shaking my hand.

"Yeah," I said, "This is my associate, Lula." I gestured over my shoulder, and Mike's eyes bulged, but his polite smile stayed in tact. When you hung out with Lula, you sort of got immune to her style. I mean there was the odd time she wore a pattern or a color where it was best to just avoid looking directly at her, and sometimes the cleavage was distracting, but for the most part you weren't surprised by much. Today she had herself compacted in to a pair of bright, sunshine yellow, leather pants, and matching cropped jacket that was mostly fringe and rhinestones, a black shirt, and a pair of calf high bedazzled black leather boots. The look was somewhere between ho, cowboy, and bumblebee, yet weirdly she pulled it off.

"I have all of the paperwork here that says Crys's court date isn't for at least a month," he said, tearing his eyes away from Lula. It was clearly an effort because his eyes kept wandering back and he kept dragging them back to me.

I looked at the papers he handed to me and it all seemed to be in order. I strongly doubted that he was lying and I gave Lula a bemused look, and produced my capture papers, which were also legit. While he read them over I called Constanza from the front step of the house.

"Hey, those skips I brought in, how many are claiming they weren't supposed to be in court until a later date?"

"None so far. Most of them are still sleeping off whatever drugs they were taking at that fucked up Rave. Why?"

I explained the situation to him, and he was silent for about a minute and said, "This is going to make my day, oh so much fun."

"Do we know what they were taking?"

"I'll get back to you," Carl said, "Have Crystal bring Soules and his paperwork with you to the court house. Don't go after anyone else in your pile until we know what the hell is going on."

"Okey Dokey," I said, my next call was to Ranger, where I got him up to speed.

"There is a large part of me that would like to think you are just looking for an excuse to spend time with me," he said.

"No offense Batman, but I need a break from you for at least a few more hours. I don't know what you've been eating since we got back to Trenton, but you're out of control."

"You could always say 'no'," He said. I could hear the smile in his voice, and I couldn't help grinning back.

"Yeah, like that's going to happen," I said. "I have years of saying 'no' when I didn't want to, to make up for. I'll just have to find another Pilates class."

"I could teach you," he said.

"We tried that," I said, "It didn't work."

"Yeah, but it was fun," he said.

"Okay, I know where this is going and you're just going to get yourself all worked up. Can we get back to the topic at hand?" I said, laughing.

"I'm avoiding it, because I know what you're thinking," he said.

"First Grandma, now we have potential evidence that someone is out to screw Vinnie. I know it's a bit narcissistic, but… Doesn't it feel a little bit like someone was trying lure one of us back to Trenton?"

"Yes," Ranger said, "And it's probably you."

"Does anyone know where Leitrim is?" I asked.

"I've had someone on him for a while now," Ranger reminded me, "We'd know if he was coming near you."

Harvey Leitrim was a stalker I picked up about six months before Ranger and I went to Florida. He's broken into my place a few times and stolen my peanut butter. He used to hang around places he knew I'd be going so he could save me a good parking space. I thought he was creepy, but ultimately harmless, but Ranger and Joe, weren't so optimistic. Then he escalated and shot a cop in the ass because he almost got run over by someone who hadn't seen him in a parking space and decided to start threatening people with a gun.

"Yeah, I just don't ever want to find out what the hell he was doing with my peanut butter, and if he's behind the Vinnie thing, it's probably going to mean I am going to find out, and that means I'm probably going to have to swear off of peanut butter, and it's a dietary staple."

"I'll check in with his detail," Ranger said.

"Am I meeting you at the Court House?" I asked.

"I can't. Get what information you can, and we'll have lunch together," he said, "I'll meet you at the Diner."

"Not the apartment?" I asked, confused.

"You need time to recover," he said. I grinned, hung up, and went back inside.

"I just called the judge who issued this bench warrant and it's legit," Mike said, "So I've requested the court transcripts from that day, to prove we'd set a date for her trial."

"Listen, how does your firm feel about pro bono work?" I asked, thinking about the half a hundred people crowding the jail at the moment, there for skipping bail, and probably couldn't afford a lawyer to make sure there wasn't something fucked up going on.

"We take it on all the time," he said, "What's up?"


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thank you for your reviews! As always you guys are too sweet!**

I was early getting to the diner, and didn't see any of Ranger's cars in the lot, so I thought I'd go in and have a coffee while I waited for him. There was no need to text him to see how far away he was, he said he'd be there, so he'd be there, on time. Not early, not late, exactly on time. If he was a minute late, I'd worry. I opened the door to the diner, and sure enough our usual table was free, even though Ranger wasn't here. I was about three feet in through the door when I realized the place was silent and everybody was looking at me, as if waiting for something big to happen. I waved, and tried not to feel creeped out as I made for the booth. I sat down and Sandy Grossman, our usual waitress, came to the table to immediately fill my coffee.

Everybody was still staring, "Want to give me a hint?" I asked out of the side of my mouth. Sandy handed me a menu, she knew I didn't need, indicated that I should look in it, with a slight nod of her head and said, "When's he coming? I'll get his usual started."

"About five minutes," I said. She stood there with her pen poised and I read a hastily scrawled note written on an order ticket.

 _They think you told all your skips to jump bail so Vinnie would go bust and Ranger could buy him out._

"Oh for the love of crap," I said, I stood up and looked around the room, "Vinnie isn't paying me for bringing in the skips, Ranger is, and he's charging Vinnie a flat rate for all of them. Vinnie isn't losing money on this."

"You're husband is paying you?" someone said incredulously and I turned to look in the direction of the voice.

"When I do contract work for his company, yes," I said. "Yeesh."

I sat back down, and rolled my eyes, just as I saw Ranger pull into the lot, "Just get me a burger, and spicy fries," I said to Sandy, "And a big coke; get him what he always gets."

"Coming up," Sandy said.

Conversation resumed as Ranger approached the door. They wouldn't dare risk pissing him off by openly gossiping about him, at least in front of him. He dropped a kiss on top of my head before he sat down on the opposite side of the booth; I slid him Sandy's note. He read it.

"Who gave you this?" he asked.

"Sandy," I said, "I let them know that it wasn't the case. So now you know, you don't have to worry about people thinking about you're trying to take Vinnie's business, but you do have to worry about people thinking you're paying me to be your wife."

"I only paid you to be my fiancee; the wife thing you're doing for free," he said.

"You go right ahead and tell them that," I said.

"I'll pass," he said, "What's up with the Vinnie thing?"

"Mike is going to have full tox screens run on everyone because he's concerned about them being dosed at the rave. Especially considering some of them are having trouble remembering what they were doing there in the first place. That note," I tapped Sandy's note, "Has me thinking; it seems strange to me that grandma would run into trouble at the same time as Vinnie."

"So you've said," Ranger said.

"What if Vinnie is the real target? Someone is out to ruin Vinnie; we know he's in trouble somehow because of Joe's video. What if Grandma was just to distract us from what's going on with Vinnie? It's not a secret that I would stick my neck out to save Vinnie if I had to. And it's probably no secret that I've roped you into helping me help Vinnie. If you don't want us on your back, you're going to need a way to distract us, and anyone knows that if I have to choose between making sure Grandma is okay and dealing with Vinnie, I'm going to side with grandma."

"Here's another thing to consider," Ranger said, "Edna has a very solid alibi for the murders, considering she was in detention in Princeton at the time. That she was picked up was pure chance. If she hadn't been picked up, it would take some time to prove she wasn't involved in Wylitt's murder."

"Do you believe there is a connection?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"So let's do the unthinkable, and switch our focus to who might have a grudge against Vinnie," I said.

Ranger grinned, "Should we start with family, or employees first?"

"Okay, let's start with family! You're family now; are you fucking with him for sport?"

Ranger blinked at that, "That's something I didn't consider when I married you."

"Yeah, well it's too late. We've consummated the marriage too many times to have it annulled and you don't have time for a messy divorce."

"Why would it be messy?" Ranger asked, laughing.

"If you dropped me because of Vinnie, I'd make your life hell," I said, "I know how to too. I know all the right people to call, starting with Lester. He likes me more than he likes you, and I'd be able to hire him to help me run my bonds office, after I got half your shit. Naturally I'd buy out Vinnie, because he'd have to pay for ruining us, by existing. Les could be the new you. I'd get Bobby in the divorce as well, definitely Hal and Cal... probably Hector too, since he still feels bad about the whole letting me get kidnapped thing. So that's a bunch of Rangeman's talent, which I would need to come close to replacing your skills. You'd lose a bunch of time and money replacing them. Then there's your family to contend with, because I'd get Lester to whisper a word in your grandmother's ear."

Ranger grinned, "You're right, I don't have time for that."

"Easier to stay married," I said with a shrug, "Also, the sex is decent."

"Now you're just baiting me," Ranger said.

"Maybe a little," I grinned back at him, as our food arrived, "As much as I don't want to start digging into Vinnie's dirty little secrets, because honestly I really don't want to know, I don't want to pass this off on Mini; I don't want to damage his innocent psyche."

Ranger snorted, "Carlos is far from innocent, but you're right, he doesn't need those kinds of nightmares."

"We're going to have to speak to Joyce," I said, and shuddered, "She's going to know more about Vinnie than Lucile does."

"Let me know when you're going to do that; I'll sell tickets."

Our food arrived and Ranger handed me a report. It was the preliminary ballistics report on our recovered slug. I read it twice to make sure I was understanding it correctly. There was definitely something wonky about the slug, but according to Ranger's expert, it wasn't even as damaged as the slugs Ranger shot into the foam. He was trying to replicate the results in the lab, but the round had definitely not been fired twice.

"So not Chimera's MO then, but now we are back to the problem we had before. How does a bullet that's a definite match to grandma's gun, get fired into a person when the gun is locked away as evidence in Princeton?"

"The CSI experience that doesn't exist anymore," Ranger said.

"Any news on that front?"

"Not yet," he said.

"I'll go talk to Grandma again after lunch; maybe she can tell me something, anything about what they did on that particular adventure ."

—

Ranger and I finished our lunch and after kissing me goodbye in the parking lot, and getting me all hot and bothered in the process, and then saying, "How's that for 'decent'?"

I pulled myself together and went back to the Bonds Office to see if Lula wanted to come hang out with grandma and I.

"Why?" Connie asked, when I phrased it just like that.

"Because Grandma's been having a shitty week and Lula cheers her up."

"Your ass, that's why you want me comin' wit you," Lula said, "You're afraid your mama is gonna still be all over your ass for eloping and lyin' to her about it. You know she won't say nuthin' with me there."

"Yes," I said, "That's exactly why; I need a human shield." Unfortunately I agreed to that reasoning far too quickly for Connie, who went squinty eyed at me.

"Yeah, that's definitely not the reason," she said, "What gives Plum?"

"Nothing! I'm just looking for someone to run interference between me and…"

"Nuh huh," Lula said, "I'm with Connie on this; you ain't getting out of here unless you tell us."

I turned to walk out to my car when Lula unclipped the strap from my messenger bag and yanked the bag away from me. She tossed it to Connie who promptly locked it in the filing drawer of her desk.

"You both suck," I said. I couldn't even call Ranger for back up, because my phone was in the bag. Note to self, get a gigantic purse that holds all my crap but can't easily be stollen that way again. Maybe start padlocking it to my bra strap for good measure. "Fine, mom is planning a party for me and Ranger, in June sometime. I need to speak to grandma without mom hovering, and I figured she and Lula could fight over plans."

"Why didn't you just say that?" Lula asked, getting off of the couch and reaching for her handbag.

"Because, you're a crappy actress, and if you know what's going to happen going in, mom's going to know that I brought you as a distraction."

"Like hell I'm a crappy actress! I can act the shit out of anything you want me to," Lula said. Connie and I both gave her almost identical 'bitch please' looks, "It's true! When I was a ho, I had to role play all the time, and I had to make men believe I wasn't bored with they tired ass shit."

"Women are born with the ability to convincingly fake an orgasm," Connie said, "That doesn't count."

"Besides," I added, "If men needed a true dramaturgical experience when they had wood, pornos would have way better acting."

"Drama…what?" Connie said.

"It means theatrical," I said.

"Why not say that?"

"Got a word of the day app in Florida and I've been waiting for an opportunity to use one of the words from it."

"How bored were you?" Connie asked.

"Very," I said, "I told you when I called, people hated me and didn't want to speak to me. I took Pilates, and got a bunch of new apps on my phone. Bad Piggies, is addictive, though Ranger kicks my ass at it and it pisses me off. I mean I put in hours in that game and he can just figure out a level in like two seconds. It's not fair."

"I just don't see Ranger playing games on his phone," Connie said.

"Turns out, he's human and gets bored. Sometimes when he's standing there, looking like he's endlessly texting, he's actually playing Tetris."

"Well that kind of destroys a bit of the…" Connie made vague gesture with her hand.

"Not really, considering it's just a stop gap until he either gets to shoot someone, have sex, or go to the gym to beat the shit out his men, in what he calls a sparring session," I said. I looked at Lula, "Are you coming with me or not?"

"We both are," Connie said, "I'll forward my phone. I'll tell your mom that you told us that you were here talking about the party and we felt, since you gypped us out of being bridesmaids, we should get say." Connie reached into her filing cabinet and pulled out a massive black leather binder.

"What is that?"

"Never you mind," Connie said. She forwarded the phones, and we locked up the Bonds Office, piled into my Range Rover, and cruised over to my mother's. When we got there mom was waiting by the door, as usual, looking slightly bemused by the presence of Connie and Lula.

"Has something happened? About mother?" She asked without saying hello.

"Nope," I said.

Connie pushed in front of me and held up the black leather binder, "She said you were planning a reception; I thought you could use some help."

My mother's eyes lit up like she was being faced with the holy grail, or the Shroud or Turin, or a store wide 90% off sale at Macy's. "Is that..?"

"It is," Connie said, "I got it from my mom when Steph told me she and Ranger were getting married."

"Come in! Come in!"

She stood aside and let Connie and Lula troop in passed her, forgetting I was there completely. As soon as they were inside she let the door go and followed them. The springs in the screen door must have recently been replaced because the door snapped shut more quickly than usual, before I was half way through it, snagging my shoe between the door and the frame. It was enough to send me diving through the entrance, and directly into the nearest wall, and a hatrack, holding about five of dad's coats, but no actual hats. I reached out to grab it for support, which only resulted in the hat rack nailing a shelf and sending the shelf's contents flying, and I went to the floor anyway.

By the time I righted myself, and returned everything to it's previous position, mom and the girls were already in the kitchen, and deep into the binder. Coffee had been served and they were happily munching on a plate of cookies, and discussing floral arrangements for outdoor wedding receptions. Missing from this quorum, was grandma, which was a bit strange.

"Where's grandma?" I asked.

"She's upstairs in her room playing on her Computer," mom said. She tore her eyes away from the binder and brought her attention to me, "She's more upset about this business than she's letting on." I'd like to say the tone conveyed concern, and it did, a little, but it was more accusatory than it was compassionate. She called me back to New Jersey to fix things, and I'd apparently done a half assed job of it, because grandma was not back to normal.

"I'll go talk to her," I said. I went upstairs to Val's old room, which was now Grandma's room.

When I was little I hated Val's room; it was always perfect, her ruffled bedskirt and curtains were never crooked or wrinkled. Her wall paper pristine, no poster had torn holes in it. It was the perfect girl next door experience. My room however, while always spotless, because otherwise mom would have a stroke, did have tears in the wall paper, that I covered up with posters of super heroes, ninja turtles and rock bands. I had even gone to the movie theatre once and managed to score one of those life sized cardboard cutouts of the Ghostbusters. I nailed it to my bedroom wall to patch a hole in the drywall from a failed attempt to backflip off of my bed. Val's room looked magazine perfect, mine looked lived in.

Grandma had put her own stamp on the place. It was what you would expect from an 80 something year old woman with it's perfectly made bed, and the requisite number of doilies and crocheted blankets. Then in the corner of the room, stood gamer heaven, a docking station for her laptop and two twenty inch monitors that allowed her to do whatever the hell she was doing at that particular moment. It looked like she was killing zombies.

I knew that on the wall, behind the door, where mom wouldn't see it when she poked her head in, was a poster of some male model, wearing nothing but a Santa Hat over his pride (a gift from Lula). I knocked on her open door, and she turned.

"Hey Cookie, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"I came to ask you some questions," I said, "And to see how you're holding up?"

"'I'm okay; I didn't know him very long and a lot of my friends have died. I've sort of gotten used to it."

"He was pretty young though," I said.

"Maybe that's why it's bumming me out so much," she said.

"Maybe it's the fact that you're a widow for the second time in your life, and that's gotta suck no matter how you slice it," I said, sitting down on her bed with a flop.

She shrugged, "Maybe," she said, "Maybe he just made me feel young."

"Hey, I learned something about him today! I know why his stage name was Merlin."

"Oh?" Grandma said.

"Wylitt is believed to be one of the possible last names of the legendary Merlin. Probably he knew that, and his family was proud of that fact."

"Well isn't that something?" she said with a weak smile, "I was married to a descendant of Merlin."

"Pretty damn cool if you ask me," I said, "When are they releasing the body?"

"Don't know," Grandma said, "Still waiting for the autopsy to be finished. You know, when you watch those shows, they make it seem like everything gets done overnight. I thought they were dragging their heels with Merlin, but according to Joseph, it's taking a long time because they are really backed up. He says Merlin is priority, but it's still gonna take a while. I'm of half a mind to sue CSI, on accounta what they show is misleading. Make me a million bucks." It was a bad, but attempt at gallows humour, so I smiled.

"Can you tell me about the CSI thing you did?" I asked.

"Well, let me see, we were given a choice when we got there, we could do fingerprints, we could do DNA or we could do ballistics, and I thought, seeing as I have a gun and all, why not do ballistics?"

"What did you do during these experiments?" I asked.

"Well we shot the gun into a lot of what they called 'mediums', so we could see what the bullet all looked like after hitting different things, and then they did this thing, where they made a cast of the barrel of my gun, and then they did this neat thing where they scanned the cast into the computer, and they showed us exactly what it looked like."

"Why did they do that?" I asked. I'd never heard of that being done before.

"Well I asked them that too, and they said it's because it's important for the evidence right? Our instructor told us that over time because people don't clean their guns, and grit gets in them, natural wear, that sort of thing, causes the ballistic imprint to change. So he said that periodically the cops submit their guns for this sort of scan, so if something happens they don't have to worry about the bullets in a body not matching a gun's ballistics on record and having it look like a cop tampered with evidence or something."

"Huh," I said, I honestly had no idea if that was true or not, and it sounded plausible, except for one tiny little detail, I didn't know a police department that wasn't underfunded and that seemed like a rather costly thing to do. Especially when you could simply take the weapon and fire it under controlled circumstances and compare the bullets to the one recovered from the body. It seemed more likely that they were trying to find a way to duplicate grandma's gun.

"It was all very fun," Grandma said, "Merlin thought it was a hoot too; he asked our instructor lots of questions. Not just about ballistics, but like evidence in general."

"What specifically was he concerned about?" I asked.

"He was asking how good evidence was if it was from an anonymous source."

"Like could it be admissible in court?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"Did he ask anything else?"

"Umm, not that I remember, except there was one thing that was a little weird. He said he had a friend trying to get custody of a kid, he was pretty sure was the friend's, but the kid wasn't born yet and the woman was in jail. He wanted to know if there was a way to do a paternity test before the baby was born, and if there was, could they make the mother do it."

"What did he say?"

"He said it wasn't really his area of expertise; he was just firearms, not DNA, that was another guy. I told Merlin we could go to the DNA lab bit too if he wanted, but the instructor told us that they were closing for the day, and said we could come back another time."

"So what happened to all of your test results from your ballistics stuff?" I asked.

"They told me that if I wanted to they could add the information to the national database, and I told them to go to hell. So they laughed and said that they would dispose of everything properly."

"Was there anything strange about that day?" I asked. Grandma sucked her dentures for a minute and for just a flash, I thought I saw something, I don't know if it was anger, or sadness, or what it was, but it was there and she covered it quickly. It was so ungrandma like that it really caught my attention. Grandma hasn't held anything back for so long, that I forgot that while she didn't quite do the guilt thing my mother did, that her attitude now was nothing like it was when I was a kid. Once upon a time, Grandma was just as much a stereotypical housewife as my mother was, as my sister wanted to be, and that meant she suppressed the emotions so nobody was allowed to see when she was angry or hurt. Especially her grandchildren.

"No," she said a little more firmly than was strictly necessary. She was totally lying to me. "He was the way he had been every night since we met. We were talking about getting dressed up for that Super Hero Convention where we found your present."

"Did you dress up?" I asked, grinning. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through some pictures and then handed me the thing. There was Merlin, in a blonde cropped wig, fur loincloth, leather suspenders, and calf height fur covered boots. He actually made a pretty excellent He-Man. Grandma as She-Ra, looked like she was being weighed down by the gold head-dress and the little white outfit was about a size and a half too big, but she was smiling broadly in the picture as she tried to hoist the Sword or Protection (She-Ra's totally boss weapon) over her head, with the assistance of her indulgently smiling He-Man. They looked genuinely happy together and it made me more determined to figure out what the hell was going on.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to meet him. He looks like he was a really cool guy," I said.

"He was," Grandma said, her smile sad, "So how were you able to get passed your mother, without her bitching at you?"

"She's distracted with plans for the probably horrendous wedding reception she's throwing for Ranger and I," I said.

"If you wanted a big party, you wouldn't have eloped," Grandma said with a big ole New Jersey eye roll.

"She's punishing me for lying to her," I said and flopped onto my back, horizontally across grandma's single bed, so my head was hanging over the other side.

"Want to tell me what happened to change your minds about making it real?" Grandma asked. She walked over and eased herself down onto the bed beside me. She was probably too old to flop, but she did lie down and hang her head beside mine. She was too subdued, and it reminded me a lot of the way she was after grandpa died.

I gave her hand a squeeze, "I want to tell you, but if it's too much right now, it can wait."

"No, I want to hear," Grandma said. So I told her. I told her more than I had told anyone else. I told her about when I realized that Ranger wanted me to stay. I told her about Joe being an ass and trying to fuck things up with Ranger and I, and I told her about me losing my shit with Ranger because he told me the smart thing would be to fix things with Joe. His second proposal to me in a week, and how it startled the hell out of me. Then his real proposal on the boardwalk before he and Joe got into it. I told her about the wedding, and she laughed at the idea of Lunch Box, acting as best man. Then I voiced the one thing that had been really bothering me, and that was mostly because I was neurotic.

"Is it supposed to be easy?" I asked, "Because it's easy, and I would have thought being married to Ranger would be, I dunno… Different. I keep waiting for a flaw, something to bitch about like other married women do, and aside from the fact that he treats mayonnaise like the antichrist, there's nothing and it's freaking me out."

She was quiet for a long time, and I turned, wondering if she'd fallen asleep during my rambling, she wasn't, she was just thinking. "Things might have been more predictable with Joseph, but you would have been bored, and then you would have settled into things and forgotten who you are. You did the right thing by marrying Ranger."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," I said, teasing her. Grandma looked at me and blinked as if suddenly remembering I was in the room, or as though she hadn't meant to say what she said out loud.

"Do you think if I had a chance to get with a studmuffin like that, I'd have turned it down?" she said, "you know why you and Ranger aren't butting heads? It's because between the two of you, you've seen too much to sweat the small stuff. You know there are bigger stakes, and sniping over who's turn it is to load the dishwasher just isn't going to be something you do."

"You're probably right," I said, "Well, I should go downstairs, Connie's brought some binder that made mom have an out of body experience. If i'm not careful I'll be going to this party dressed like a wedding cake."

"Connie is here with a binder? It's probably the Maestri Family Wedding Planning Bible. Their family always has the best weddings, and it doesn't matter what kind. If there's a problem that can pop up during planning or on the actual day, the solution, or the person who can fix the problem, is in that book. Connie's mother's mother was a Maestri, so she would have a copy of the book. Your mother is probably in heaven."

—-

I left Connie and Lula with mom (they barely acknowledged me when I told them I was leaving, other than to say they would get an Uber) so I cruised back to Rangeman, with the information grandma had given me. I didn't, however go to the apartment, but rather, went to five and knocked on Ranger's office door, and stuck my head in when he said "Yes."

"I'm back," I said.

"I saw that," he said shortly, and nodded towards the Monitor behind him. Babe TV was up and running, but he seemed engrossed in his work, so I was surprised that he'd even been paying attention to it.

"Well, I thought I'd let you know, just in case," I said, "Didn't mean to interrupt. I'm going to my desk for a bit, I'll leave you to this."

He had a file open on his desk, and opened to a page that looked like it had a lot of math on it. There were notes on the pages in his handwriting, all of them with a question mark at then end. He had a couple of reference books open, and he was staring intently at his computer screen, adding more notes to the math, as he did.

"Not necessary," he said, and turned away from his computer, "Did you get anything from Edna."

"If you're busy it can wait," I said, "I have some things I want to follow up on my computer anyway."

"I'm looking at a ballistics report that doesn't make sense," he said, "So I'm hoping something your grandmother said is going to fill in some gaps."

"They made a mould of the inside of her gun barrel," I said and repeated grandma's story.

"That would be a waste of time, and resources," Ranger said.

"It's cheaper just to fire the gun right?" I said. Ranger nodded.

"Does that help you at all?"

"No, not yet at least," he said, "Edna said that Wylitt was interested in DNA analysis?"

"That's what she said," I said, "Specifically, paternity. My thing is, why wouldn't he or his friend just call one of the labs that tests paternity to ask? It can't cost anything to ask, so it's not a money thing."

"Didn't want to risk there being a record of his call to the lab anywhere," Ranger said, with a shrug, "The man has to have skeletons in his closet, and someone has gone to a great deal of trouble to cover them up. He's not in any sort of federal protection program, or we'd have heard by now, and everything looks legitimate so far."

"What's up with the advanced math?" I asked, nodding to the file on his desk.

"Nothing that makes any sense," Ranger said, "And frankly it's pissing me off."

"Because you're secretly really shitty at math, and you're doing it wrong, or because you aren't getting the results you want?"

"I'm not shitty at math, and even if I were, these calculations are fairly simple," Ranger said, "I know the math is absolutely correct, but reality is proving to being difficult."

"How so?"

"Do you get why there's rifling inside the barrel of a gun?" Ranger asked.

"Of course I know," I lied, "But let's pretend I don't."

"It's for accuracy," Ranger said, with a smile. He knew I wasn't a ballistics expert, but he also knew I found him sexy when he explained stuff. "It's basically the same idea as throwing a football. Throw a football without putting spin on it, and it doesn't go very far, and tumbles all over the place. Put a little spin on it, and it goes farther. Put a lot of spin on it, and it goes much farther and with much more accuracy. The same principal applies to bullets. The rifling in the barrel of a gun is what puts the spin on the bullet. The higher the velocity the greater the spin, the straighter the bullet flies, the farther it goes, the deeper the impact into the target. In the case of full metal jackets, this can mean the bullet goes straight through whoever you're firing the bullet at. This isn't always ideal, because it's not going to cause enough damage to do much if you're using a smaller calibre of bullet, so that's why we have things like hollow points. They form a mushroom shape on impact, and it does more damage inside, and I'll spare you the details of that."

"Thanks," I said.

"A .357 Magnum round leaves the chamber at a very high velocity, and unless it was slowed dramatically by something, it should have easily passed through that cheep sofa, and lodged into the floor."

"Well what if the reason it wasn't that deep into the couch was because it went through Wylitt first."

"There would have been more damage to the bullet and we would have found traces of human blood or tissue on it. All we've found so far is an as yet unidentified residue, and anything that would slow the bullet down enough to account for it's position in the sofa, would have stopped the rotation on the bullet, so the entry wouldn't have been that clean."

"So what would account for it's lack of penetration?"

"Distance," Ranger said.

"How much distance?"

"Let's put it this way, a round from a 357 can go through a dear at fifty yards away," Ranger said.

"Yeah, that living room wasn't that big," I said.

"From the angle of penetration, he would have had to be standing on something very high, and he would have had to shoot through a wall to do it," Ranger said.

"Is it possible the bullet is old?" I thought maybe they had been using the sofa for target practice or something. Ranger shot that idea down with a simple...

"Nope," Ranger said, "We've been trying everything we can think of to slow the bullet, causing minimal damage to the slug, when fired from the same model gun as your grandmother's and we're coming up dry."

"Joe said there was something weird with the bullets in his ballistics report, maybe they are having the same problems?"

"Maybe."

"Can I ask you a question?" I said. He nodded, "How accurate is a ballistic fingerprint?"

"There is always going to be variability in the results, two bullets fired in rapid succession are going to have a better match than say two bullets fired from an active weapon, ten years apart. Wear on the barrel, time, how often the weapon is cleaned, all change the striations on the bullets."

"Is it possible to get a false match?" I asked. He nodded.

"They don't make a new mould for each gun, so two guns from the same lot, can leave similar ballistic fingerprints," Ranger said.

"So it's possible someone used a gun that was made the same year as grandma's and it's just a coincidence," I said.

"To kill her husband?" he said, "That's a little too much of a coincidence. I'd like to know how exact the match is, before I'd accept that. What is your next step?"

"I'm going to talk to Vinnie," I said, "And probably Joyce."

"Leave your gun at home," Ranger said. Well that was probably one of the more shocking things he'd said to me in a while. I don't think he's ever asked me to go anywhere unarmed before. He's usually surprised and a little irritated that I go anywhere without my gun.

"I'm sorry, I think I had a stroke. Did you say leave my gun at home?"

"If you have to kill her, use a weapon of opportunity, that way we only have to clean up trace evidence. I don't have time to properly dispose of a weapon today," he said.

"Ha. Ha." I said, "I'm going to look to see what Minnie has on Wylitt, and then I'm going to talk to Vinnie and Joyce. Want me to pick up dinner?"

"Ella is making chilli, for dinner," he said, "You might want to grab some beer."


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Thank you for your reviews! Just a quick note to say that with the holidays coming up, and the surrounding chaos associated with kids and said holidays, I may be a bit sporadic with posting over the next few weeks. But worry not because Thursday was conceived of and mostly written while on vacation, and in just a few weeks time I plan to be camped out on a patio by a pool, drinking rum drinks and finishing Friday on my laptop. In case I don't post again before Christmas, Happy Holidays to everyone!**

Minnie came up dry with Wylitt again, and I was starting to get really pissed off about it. Not because Minnie couldn't find anything, but because grandma seemed to have found pretty much the perfect guy, and had him taken away from her just as she'd found some well deserved happy. The more I thought about it, the more upset I got. Here was a guy, who was really good looking, didn't really give a shit at all about physical appearance, liked grandma because she's insane, and seemed to be well liked by everybody. Yet obviously there were skeletons, or he wouldn't have been shot. I never thought I'd be happy about it, but I was glad that grandma was safely tucked away in jail for the murder, because if she hadn't been, there was a good chance she would have been a third body at that scene. I shuddered thinking about it.

I was parked outside of Vinnie's house, building up the courage to go inside, and was willing to delay any excuse to go into the house. I mean Vinnie was always better behaved at home, and he did owe me, but I'd have to deal with Lucile, and I just wasn't interested in that. She was ridiculously nosy, highly dramatic, her voice when she got excited was shrill, and when she wasn't excited, she adopted this sickeningly sweet, borderline babyish voice, that made me grind my teeth. She was going to be all a flutter because I was married again, and since she was apparently trying to get pregnant, the talk was inevitably going to turn to reproduction.

Ranger and I weren't planning on having children, which in my family is basically like saying I'm going to quit my job and become stripper. Actually that wasn't accurate in my case, because my mother would probably prefer it to my current line of work. Not to mention the hours would be steady and the pay decent. I was quite happy to delay the inevitable conversation, but I was running out of justifications for my procrastination. Then I remembered Joe said he would be getting the ballistics back soon and there was something wonky about them.

"Tell me you have something?" he said by way of answering the phone.

"Nope. Just a question; what was weird about the ballistics?"

"They don't know," Joe said, "It's pissing them off. First of all, the bullets shouldn't have fragmented like that, second, the round they did recover, should have been a through and through. It wasn't. Something should have slowed it down, but there isn't enough damage on the bullet to indicate it had."

"Okay, so how close is the match? Ranger says that there is a certain amount of room for error."

"Yeah, there is, but in this case the match is more than 95%; it had to have been fired from your grandmother's gun. Except it couldn't have been, because it was in evidence lock up, in Princeton when the murder took place."

"We're absolutely sure of that? Nobody checked it out, or anything."

"Not until they ran the preliminary ballistics on it, no," Joe said, "I've gone over surveillance footage and nobody went anywhere near that weapon until after Wylitt's death. I floated your reused bullet theory, that it could be this Chimera guy, passed our ballistics guy, and he's looking to see if he can do what you claim this guy does."

"Ranger, didn't say definitively that this guy does it, just that he's believed to have done it. He thinks it's dangerous, and unnecessarily complicated as a forensic countermeasure. Personally, I think if he's as good as Ranger says he is, I'd think he'd have something more reliable up his sleeve. But again, it's all speculation and Ranger will even admit to that."

"Well one of the Feds was there when I was talking to Tim about the feasibility of it, and they wanted to know where I heard the name Chimera. They were really interested."

"What did you say?"

"That I was in the Navy and that I assumed all former Military had heard of him."

"Thanks for keeping Ranger out of it," I said.

"Don't thank me, I didn't do it out of the goodness of my heart," Joe said, "I don't want them knowing I've got you guys for backup on this, or they might kick me off of the case."

"Still," I said, "I owe you one. Can you maybe slip us a copies of the ballistics and autopsy reports."

"I'll drop what I have off at your apartment," he said, "Unless you want to meet now while I've got some time?"

"I can't. I'm sitting in my car, trying to think of an excuse not to go into Vinnie's house."

"You'll probably get crabs from standing on the carpet."

"Thanks," I said.

I hung up with him, and stared at the house for another beat and then with a massive sigh, I opened the door to my Range Rover.  
Vinnie lived in a big red brick colonial style, brand new McMansion, with big white fake columns on either side of the door. It would have been impressive, except the brick only faced the street, and he'd cheeped out half way through the construction process and put inexpensive white vinyl siding on the rest of the house.  
His garage was usually full of cars that he'd taken as collateral at the bonds office, so he and Lucile were forced to park in the driveway, which is why I parked on the street. I went to the rose pink, front door, and rang the bell, hearing the intro to Enter Sandman chime through the door, and was immediately jealous. I may be grossed out by Vinnie but that was a truly badass doorbell.

Lucile opened the door looking like she'd just been working out. Her forehead was sweaty, and she had her bottle blonde hair, reefed back into a pony tail. She had the blotchy red skin of someone who's just done some serious cardio, and she looked almost relieved that it was me at the door.

"I'm so gross, and was on my way to shower, when you rang the bell. I was worried it was one of the neighbors. Since it's just family, I can run upstairs, real quick."

"I'm here to see Vinnie, actually, so if he's around, you can take your time, and we can visit when you're ready."  
"VINNIE!" she screech/bellowed through the house. Her voice made the hair on my arms stand up, and my face involuntarily contorted into a grimace.

"LUCILE! I TOLD YOU, THE DOCTOR SAID MY SWIMMERS WILL LAST FOR DAYS IN THERE. WE HAD SEX THIS MORNING SO YOU'RE FINE. NOW LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE; I'M BUSY!"

"SHUT UP VINNIE!" She yelled back, "AND GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!"

"Listen, he said position didn't matter, doggy style is going to get you just as pregnant, as anything else, so just…" Vinnie said as he came out of the kitchen, and stopped when he saw me there. I don't know if he was embarrassed about sharing the details of his sex life with the neighborhood or not, I was too busy trying to get rid of the mental picture.

Vinnie snapped his fingers in front of my face, and I forced my face out of its horrified contortion, and willed my eye to stop twitching. "What do you want Stephanie?"

"Invite her in Vinnie, don't be a dick," Lucile said, and yanked me in the door, "Christ. What the hell is wrong with you?" She slammed the door and stalked off up the stairs.

"What's up with her?" I asked. Lucile was usually so sickeningly sweet, and lovey-dovey. I was glad she was finally treating her husband the way he deserved.

"She's taking hormones and it's made her fucking crazy," Vinnie said, "What do you want?"

"Who's pissed at you? Besides apparently Lucile? We think grandma was a set up to keep Ranger and I from looking into whoever is after you. So who is pissed with you now that would be interested in destroying you?"

"Nobody!" Vinnie snapped, "Only one pissed at me on a regular basis is Harry, and he wouldn't shoot himself in the foot by tanking the business."

"You're not into anything/one you shouldn't be?"

"No!" he hissed, "Jeeze, she has hearing like a bat, don't bring up my extracurriculars in here!"

"Vinnie, I think you're in deep shit, so you have to think. Have you seen anything strange? Has there been unusual activity on the street? Problems at the Bonds Office, anything?"

"No," he said, "We're trying to have a kid, and after the bullshit with Jankowitz, I decided that it's better for my health, if I clean up my act. Next thing I know, all hell is breaking loose, and part of me is wondering if Harry set the whole thing up as an excuse to take me out before…"

"Before you spawn with his little girl?" I finished.

"Fuck off, you're the one who's going to produce really fucked up kids. I'm not sure that Ranger isn't a complete psychopath, and we both know you've got every screw loose."

"It's true, but Ranger's genetics are strong, so if we have kids, they will be pretty," I said. "When was the last time you saw Joyce?"

"I don't know, two weeks ago maybe?"

"I thought you were cleaning up your act?"

"I didn't say I fucked her two weeks, ago; I just said I saw her then. She wanted to know if she could come back to the Bonds Office since you were out of town."

"What did you say?"

"I told her she wasn't allowed, because Harry would kick my ass if I hired her back on," he said. Then his face split into a smile that was more like a leer, "She offered to…"

"I don't want to know," I said quickly and held up my hand to stop him from telling me what she was offering.

"Well I turned her down, and I should get a medal for it," he said, "But I told her that I have to save my juice for Lucile, so she's just going to have to live with the fact that she's not working for me."

"If you can think of anything strange call me. Vinnie, it looks like someone messed with the court records to make it look like everyone jumped bail on the same day."

"I'm telling you, I've got nothing," he insisted. Lucile chose that moment to come back down the stairs, and he forced his face into a smile, only to be met by an outraged frown.

"You mean to tell me, I've been up there for twenty minutes and you couldn't even invite her into the kitchen for a coffee? I don't care if she's your cousin and works for you, you still at least offer her refreshments. She saved your ass yesterday! Show some respect Vincent!"

My eyebrows skidded to the top of my forehead. Vinnie's smile froze in place, clearly forced, not wishing to incur the further wrath of Lucile. "It's not what you think Baby; we _were_ in the kitchen. Stephanie didn't want coffee, and she was just getting ready to leave. Weren't you Steph?"

The look he shot me was pleading. I almost wanted to make him squirm, but frankly I was a little afraid of this new Lucile. Part of me wondered if she had laser vision we needed to be worried about. "That's right. I've had a messed up few days, and I've been drinking far too much coffee. I'm pretty wired, and…"

"Stephanie Plum," she said, "I've never known you to turn down a cup of coffee, ever. You're protecting him, when he's clearly being a bastard. If I didn't love him…"

"No honestly, I didn't want coffee. I learned my lesson in Florida, when I overdosed on caffeine. I'm trying to limit my intake and…"

"OH MY GOD YOU'RE PREGNANT!" Lucile squealed and skipped down the stairs, "That's the sort of excuse a pregnant woman uses to not drink coffee, like saying you're on antibiotics so you can't drink!"

"I'm not pregnant," I said, with an eye roll, "I've just had fourteen cups of coffee today, and think a fifteenth would be a bad idea."

"It's all right; I understand, you can keep your little secret," she said and waggled a finger at me, "It's early days yet, don't want to jinx anything at our age!" She then winked at me and I looked down at my jeans. Thanks to a diet of sex and pilates, my jeans were actually a little loose, so at least I didn't look pregnant. Though the mountain of doughnuts I knew was waiting for me back at the office could fix that pretty quick. Maybe I'd lay off…

"Well, I have to go. It's been nice. Vinnie, you owe me," I said sweetly and left.

I got back to my Range Rover and sat in the front seat, contemplating how much I wanted to subject myself to Joyce but she was next on my list. She probably knew more about Vinnie than Vinnie knew about Vinnie, so I didn't really have much of a choice.

I hated her. I hated her with a passion. She gave me the heebie jeebies, first of all. Second she had a way of making me feel insecure, and it pissed me off. She liked to put a target on me, and she'd been doing it since we were kids. If I liked a guy she'd sabotage it. She turned up the charm huge on Joe, when we were together, and made sure I knew that she'd slept with him before. With Ranger, well, you could bet your ass she was going to turn up the heat now that I was married.

I started the car and drove to her house. She lived a few blocks from Vinnie, in the same neighborhood, and her house, from the outside, looked almost identical to Vinnie's only whichever ex husband she was bilking out of money, had been forced to put the brick all around the house. Her driveway, like Vinnie's, was occupied. Only not by cars but by a motorcycle with a sidecar on it, and it was parked dead center, so once again I had to park on the street.

The bike was a new addition to Joyce's life and when I walked by I looked in the side car to see a child sized purple unicorn helmet on the seat. Someone with kids was voluntarily bringing the child near Joyce? It didn't seem likely; maybe I had the wrong house? I pulled out my phone and checked my information on her against the phone directory, and this said it was the right house, but who knows how often that registry is updated?

I went up and rang the bell, and heard what sounded like Candy Man by Christina Agulaira. What the fuck was with all of these funky doorbell chimes? What company did they use, and at the risk of copying two of the people I disliked most in the world, I wanted what they had. Not that we could have a doorbell in the apartment, but the house in Florida had this super annoying tone, and something wicked like The Hand that Feeds, might give our really simple monochromatic house, a little life.

The door was opened by a girl who was probably about eleven or twelve years old. She was dressed in an oversized black sweatshirt with My Little Ponies Emojies on it, and she was wearing matching brightly colored leggings. She had long dark hair, thick bangs and hot pink, purple and green streaks that had been braided into little braids. Her expression looked bored as she looked up at me through a pair of wooden glasses that had what looked like spider woman painted on them. She was a kid after my own heart, this one.

"I think I have the wrong house," I said, "I'm looking for Joyce? I thought she lived on this street."

The little girl sighed. "This is the right house. She's trying to hook up with my daddy. She's awful, but she's paying me a hundred bucks a day to pretend I like her."

"Your dad really likes her huh?"

"My daddy is gay," she said, "Don't tell her though, I'm gonna see how much I can get out of her."

"I like you," I said, "My name is Stephanie."

"Electra," she said.

"Right on," I said. She shrugged. Okay so she wasn't impressed with her name. I guess, if my father named me after a comic book character I might be a little jaded too, but Electra was a pretty awesome name.

"Daddy and Joyce are in the back, grilling," Electra said. I followed her through Joyce's lurid purple kitchen out to the back patio. "Auntie Joycie," Electra said in a innocent voice, "Your friend Stephanie is here to see you."

Joyce nearly got whiplash as her head spun around, daggers flying from her eyes as she looked at me, and then pasted what I'm sure she hoped resembled a friendly smile, on her lips. "Stephanie Plum, what a nice surprise! What are you doing here?" It may have sounded friendly, if her teeth weren't clamped together, involuntarily grinding as she spoke.

"Hi, I just got back from my honeymoon, and thought I'd pop bye and say hello!" I said, with an equally fake smile. Joyce's eye twitched.

"You and Morelli finally tied the knot then?" she said. She was going to crack a cap if she didn't unclench her teeth soon.

"You haven't heard? Morelli and I broke up because Ranger and I got engaged. We eloped in Florida after our last job."

"R-ranger?" she choked, "R-ranger?" her voice was really squeaky, "I-I thought he didn't do that sort of thing?"

"I'm special," I said. I'll admit it came out a lot more smug than it probably should have, "You know Ranger and I have been together off and on for years."

She looked utterly dumbstruck and it took her a minute to remember her manners. "Ch-Charlie, th-this is Stephanie Plum…Manoso. She and I u-used to go to school together."

Charlie was about five ten, with dark hair, and a little bit of scruff. He was wearing pair of red lensed John Lennon glasses, and a black t-shirt over deep red leather pants. When he stepped forward to shake my hand I saw the DD of the Dare Devil logo on his t-shirt. I wondered if Joyce had the first clue that her potential victim/boyfriend, had a serious thing for that particular super hero. His glasses were a definite nod to Charlie Cox's portrayal of the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

I looked around the deck and there was a red leather biker jacket to match the pants, and I was willing to bet his helmet probably matched. I smiled and shook his hand, "A pleasure to meet you," I said.

"So what really brings you by Steph?" Joyce asked sweetly.

"I was in the neighborhood visiting my cousin, because he's been having a bit of trouble, and I thought I'd drop by to see if you might know something that might help me out?"

Joyce's pleasant demeanor dropped completely, "I don't want anything to do with that snake. I can't help you."

"I thought maybe you might know something considering how often you two…" Joyce slapped her hand over my mouth, muffling the end of the sentence, and smiled sweetly at Charlie.

"She's such a kidder," she said, "Like I said Steph, I can't help you. I'm sure you must be busy if you're helping Vinnie out again, so I won't waste your time by pretending I know something." She dragged me back into the house, as I waved at Charlie and Electra.

She lost any air of friendliness as soon as we were passed the kitchen.

"Get the fuck out of my house. I don't give a rat's ass if Vinnie's in trouble and as far as I give a shit, he deserves whatever is happening to him, the greasy weasel."

"If I give you some information in exchange, can you at least answer a couple of questions?" I said.

"Depends on the information," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

"Do you have Netflix?" I asked.

"I have a cable package with 5000 channels, a DVR and OnDemand, what the fuck do I need Netflix for?"

"Daredevil. Charlie has named his kid after one of the main character's girlfriends, and he's got a definite thing for Charlie Cox. His glasses are straight out of the show, and his bike leathers look like the costume Daredevil wears."

She eyed me speculatively, "Fuck off, nice try though. You're just saying that so I will spend hours watching some stupid show and…"

I found my phone and googled Daredevil and pulled up a picture of Charlie Cox in costume and showed it to Joyce. Her eyes went a little wide and she looked back at the patio. "Interesting," she said, "What do you want to know?"

"When did you last see Vinnie?" I asked.

"Two weeks ago, I bumped into him at my Gynecologist's office. Lucile and I have the same doctor and he was waiting for her in the waiting room."

"When was the last time you guys… were uhh…"

"Two weeks ago, at the Gynecologist's office. We took advantage of an empty exam room. I let him…"

"I don't want to know the details. So you guys were close until two weeks ago?"

"Close? I only get with that freak if I want something," she said.

"He said you wanted to work for him again," I said, "Any particular reason?"

"I don't want to work for him again. Some idiot used an E-Type Jag as down payment on his bail, and I want to buy it off of Vinnie. He said maybe we could work something out so we negotiated the way I negotiate. He was supposed to deliver the Jag later that week, and he didn't. I called him and he said that Lucile wanted to give her dad the Jag as a birthday present and he said she could. I told the bastard to forget I exist, because I only let him do the really freaky shit, if there's something in it for me and…"

"I. DON'T. WANT. TO. KNOW."

"You're such a child," Joyce said.

"Whatever. Did he say anything about something that was bothering him? Did he say anything about Harry or anything?"

"Aside from the birthday thing, no. I mean he was a little freaked out because Harry was talking about using the Bonds Office to launder some money, but Vinnie was able to convince him that was a bad idea, since they didn't want to risk the income that supported Lucile."

"That's all? Nobody you can think of who might be deranged enough to sleep with Vinnie, that might piss someone off? No enterprises I don't want to know about under any circumstances other than this?"

"Not that I can think of," Joyce said, "Why do you care? You're living with Ranger now, if Vinnie loses the business, you can just sweet talk Manoso into hiring Fat Ass and Connie."

"Look, I'll level with you. Grandma has been implicated in a murder and we think it's related to some crazy shit that's been happening with Vinnie. We think it's a distraction so Ranger and I ignore Vinnie."

Joyce frowned, "This about that male stripper that got killed?"

"Yes, why?"

"I saw the show; it was pretty good, even though he was a bit old and starting to sag."

"Anything odd happen there?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said, "But I don't know if it's relevant?"

"What?"

"So I went to the show on the last night right, and I was in the back. There were a lot of straight men at the show. I mean half of the audience, which was really goddamned weird. The guy at the next table was seriously old, but he moved like a younger guy. He kept his arms folded and the guy at the table with him, bought him a drink but the guy didn't touch it. He didn't say anything at all, but at one point his buddy tried to hand him a box, he was getting ready to take it, saw something and didn't touch it, all he said was 'No,' and then got up and left."

"Did you tell the police this?" I asked.

"No, because they would want to know what I was doing there, and Charlie would find out that I was there, because I was supposed to hook up with one of the dancers."

"Aren't they all older?"

"There's one guy in the group named Python, let's just say it's not an exaggeration. Charlie is taking things slow, and a girl has needs," Joyce said. I heard that.

"Could you describe this guy?"

"The old guy? I dunno, he was old, and he seemed like he was in decent shape, but old people are like babies, they all look the same."

"Thanks," I said.

"Yeah, well don't think I'm going to make this a habit. I'm only being nice, because there are stakes here. Charlie is fucking loaded and I know you won't go away, unless I give you information, or kick your ass."

I rolled my eyes, "Sure, keep telling yourself that's how it would go down." I was about to head towards my car, when Charlie came out to the front of the house.

"Miss J," Charlie said, "Would you mind keeping an eye on Ellie? I got a call from the office, and I have to run in to check on a client. She's going to try to get out of her homework, don't let her."

"Of course I'll look after her! She's an angel," Joyce said, "What about the meat on the grill?"

"I won't be long, but if I'm not back in twenty minutes, turn the heat down."

She nodded and he saluted me and went to get on his bike. He zipped up his jacket and put on a red helmet with horns on it. I was trying to decide if this guy needed help, or if he was just cool. He started up his bike and took off down the street. I was about to head to my car, when Joyce said, "So are you and Ranger thinking about getting a house? There are a few for sale down the street."

She did not want me for a neighbor, Charlie was gone, so she was going reverting to type. I should have run for my car the second he said he was leaving. I mentally cracked my knuckles and turned to look at her. "Not at the moment. We don't exactly need a house as big as one of these ones. Why?"

"Oh I just remember what it was like living near you last time. You had a nice kitchen. I'd love to see if your decorating style has changed. I know you're busy, but I'm sure I could get Ranger to give me a tour."

I took a deep breath, and counted to ten in my head. Ranger was not Dickie, and while he does like to have sex in the kitchen, he wouldn't cheat on me, and he's not even remotely attracted to Joyce.

"You've seen my kitchen Joyce, when you were in trouble that one time and you decided that I could help you. Don't you remember?"

"You're not still staying in that rat trap apartment, Ranger drives a Porsche…"

"Yeah, but he lives in a tent on a vacant lot, and I'm not really all that good at camping, so we are staying in my place until we figure out what we want to have built on the lot," I said.

"Why the hell would Ranger live in a tent on a vacant lot? And what about the winter?" She didn't sound for a second like she believed me.

"He's away a lot in the winter and that's because he relocates to Florida. He has this place near a Mangrove forest. I mean sure it got a little scary when he had to fight off the crocs for me that one time, but I got used to it."

"Oh shut up, now I know you're lying," she said.

"You think so?" I said, "Okay, but next time you see him, ask him about it. I mean he sleeps at his office when he's too busy to go home, but you know."

"Oh just fuck off," she said, "You're not even good at making shit up anymore."

"Whatever you say, Joyce," I said, "Like I said, you can ask him when you see him next."

"You're not telling me where you live now because you know that all it's going to take is for me to get him alone for one…yipe!" I looked down into the formerly pristine azalea bush, that now contained, Joyce's ass sticking out of it. I looked back up and Electra, who was standing on the porch holding the broom she used to nail Joyce in the back of the knees as she swept her right off of the steps.

"Oops?" Electra said.

Joyce made some sounds that were less than dignified as she struggled out of the bush, and came up swearing, "You little bitch!"

"What sounds better Stephanie, 'Daddy, I don't like it at Joyce's house. I heard her say something to that nice Stephanie about wanting to get her new husband alone, for some reason. She sounded real mean. What do you think she wanted to do on that kitchen table?' Or, 'Daddy, when you left I was playing and Joyce fell off the porch because I was being silly and she called me mean names.'"

"He probably won't like either," I said, "I mean you can also ask him why she would like a guy who lives up to the name Python, because your daddy was taking too long.'"

"Oh that's a good one! What does that one mean?" She asked, and batted her eyes innocently.

"I gave you a hundred dollars for.." Joyce protested.

"Yeah, but these are special circumstances," Electra said, and crossed her arms, "And for some things I have to charge extra. Give me another fifty and I might forget that you called me a bitch."

I left Joyce spluttering, as she tried to negotiate with Electra, and went back to my car. I really liked that kid. Joyce was going to be fucking pissed when she found out that Charlie is gay, but in the meantime, Electra was making some serious headway on her college fund. I looked out the window and grinned as Electra held out her hand, waiting for some bills.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out, to look at it. It was a text from Eddie, saying everyone they tested from the party, had been dosed with Scopolamine. I had no idea what it was, but it sounded familiar.

I sent Ranger a text that simply said, - _Scopalomine?_

 _-I think there's some in the infirmary; I didn't think you had issues with motion sickness._

If it was for motion sickness, why the hell would they be taking it? __

_\- I don't._

 _-I can think of other things that are more fun recreationally speaking._

 _-Call me?_

Ranger called a second later and I told him what Eddie told me.

"That's interesting," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"It's great in low doses, for motion sickness. It gets interesting when it's administered in high doses because it renders the victim highly suggestible, to the point that you would do anything anyone asked of you, if it was something you'd do while waking. From having sex, to taking money out of your bank account. When you come out of it, you have no memory of what you did while under the influence of the drug."

"And you can get this over the counter?" I said, "Jeeze Louise."

That was terrifying, and I sure as hell was going to really watch my drinks when I went out from now on. The question was, how the hell did they dose forty plus people? I doubt that it could be simply by dropping it in their beverages.

"I'm going to be sending another team to the trampoline place, to see if we can see anything. Questioning the witnesses is going to be next to useless, if they've been given enough to alter their memories. Where are they now?"

"Didn't ask Eddie that, he just texted to tell me that they'd been dosed," I said, "Oh and I'm going to have to question Vinnie again, because he flat out lied to me the entire time I was at his house. About the only thing they said that rang true was that the last time he and Joyce saw each other was two weeks ago. Their stories were completely different, except for the fact that there was something kinky involved, and I didn't want those details."

"I'd say you should have asked for specifics so you could really compare their stories, but I don't think I have a strong enough stomach for that," Ranger said, "We'll question him again, together, tomorrow. Did you need anything else?"

"Nope," I said. I'd tell him about the rest of my time with Joyce, when I saw him for dinner. I started my Range Rover and drove to the Burg to talk to grandma again. I thought maybe she might have seen the same old dude in the audience that Joyce had. Somehow I didn't think grandma thought all old men looked the same. Though through her cataracts, maybe she wasn't that discerning anymore. My mother was waiting by the door when I pulled up, still with no grandma. I was hoping the reason she was out was because she was out, getting her hair done, and not because she was still holed up in her bedroom. I got out of the car and went to the door to see mom.

"Grandma around?"

"No, she's gone to the funeral home. They've released Arthur's body, so she needs to make arrangements," Mom said.

It took me a second, and then I remembered that Merlin's real name was Arthur Wylitt. I wondered if his whole family had names that fit the Arthurian legend, or if it was just Merlin that did. "She went by herself?" I said.

"No, Hazel and Bobby went with her," Mom said, and we went into the kitchen, where I sat down at the table, and watched mom prepare a chicken for roasting. There were times where I wished I could do something like that, watching mom shove her hand up a chicken's backside to pull out giblets, was not one of those times.

"Now, I'm glad you're here. What are you planning to wear to your reception?"

"I don't know," I said, "It's a barbecue; I thought I'd wear jeans."

"Absolutely not! You're the bride Stephanie; you have to wear something special."

"I'm being punished aren't I," I said, resigned. It was more of a statement than a question. I was absolutely being punished. Mom didn't bother answering, her look basically said it all. Yep, punished. "I got a lot of really nice, expensive clothes, when I was in Florida. There's a dress Ranger likes a lot, and it's a one off, I could wear that." It was worth a shot; I mean I at least liked this particular dress, and maybe mom would let me get away with wearing it, since it was designer and nobody else had it. It was also possible that I'd stop liking pastry, but I doubted that was going to happen any time soon, and I figured that my chances of getting to wear anything I bought in Florida, were about as likely. As a matter of fact, I was willing to bet that the entire state of Florida was now a write off for mom.

"You can't wear something he's seen you in," my mom said.

"Well there were other things I didn't get the chance to wear; I could bring them by and you can help me choose."

"No," mom said primly, "There's a big difference between the way they dress in Florida, and the way we dress in New Jersey. You'll have to get something new; now I've ordered a couple of things I thought would be appropriate, off of the internet, they should be here sometime next week. I'd like you to come over and try them on, so we can decide what I… _you_ like."

"Mom," I said, reasonably, "Listen, Ranger and I didn't elope because we were trying to hide anything. We did it because neither of us are comfortable with a big wedding. We've both been married before, and we both wanted to keep this low key. A four hundred person party, with specially ordered clothes, is not low key, and defeats the purpose of what we did completely."

"Well you know what Stephanie?" Mom said, "It's not about you."

 _"_ I'm pretty sure my wedding is a little about me," I said. I'm pretty sure I tried that line before and it didn't work, but I was all for giving it another shot.

 _"_ You lied to me!" Mom shouted, "You lied! You told me that it wasn't real! So I accepted that. I resigned myself to that, why the hell didn't you call the minute you knew that it wasn't? I don't care that you got married without us; I care that you didn't think it appropriate to let us in on the fact that you were married until a week after the fact. You should have told me right away!"

"Ugh!" I said and stood up, "I did call right away! I told grandma to pass the message on, and when I called back, you were as high as a kite. So I told dad. I called you first when we told people we were married, so what the hell do you want from me?!"

"An apology!" Mom shouted, "You never once told me you had feelings for Ranger, not real ones. I had no idea, and yes I was disappointed that you didn't work things out with Joseph, but I accepted that it was over between you. Why didn't you ever say anything?!"

 _"_ I didn't tell you because I didn't want to lose him!" I shouted as I shot to my feet, and slammed my hands down on the table, "When I realized how much I loved him, it was when he got shot, and I thought he might die. I didn't leave his bedside until he woke up, because I didn't know how to _be_ without him. That's it, that's all, I couldn't function. He was always telling me that we couldn't be together, and that I was better off not loving him. I thought, if he knew that I loved him, as much as I do, he would leave, and I couldn't deal with that. So sorry mom, but I'm not sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't tell anyone because I was too damned afraid to even think of those feelings, let alone say them out loud because the man can read my fucking mind."

I think I surprised the both of us with that confession, I don't think I was expecting it to come out like that either. I flopped back down in my seat, feeling like a weight had lifted. Mom sat down across from me at the table, and neither of us knew where to go with that. At this point, I felt it best to run as far away from that difficult subject as possible.

"So Vinnie and Lucile are trying to have a baby," I said. Mom perked up, hiding her relief that I'd found a more comfortable topic to switch to, "Vinnie says she's taking hormones, and it's made her crazy. Though in fairness to Lucile, living with Vinnie would make anyone crazy."

"I would think you would have to be crazy in the first place to marry Vinnie," my mother said. That's how bad Vinnie was. Even my mother was willing to dis him without feeling any remorse over it. Still, he was family so we had to look out for the jerk. "Lucile is almost forty, why is she suddenly deciding to start a family?"

"You've got me," I said, "But she's excited about it. I heard about it when I was in Miami, I was talking to Nicky…" My voice trailed off. Nicky, aka Nicky the Sparrow, AKA a mob connection that owed me a favor that he said I could cash in whenever I wanted. I bet if I asked him, he'd know something about this Wrecking Ball, who nobody knew anything about but was probably the key to all of this. Something he might not be so forthcoming with the police about but would share with me. Mom didn't seem to care that I'd stopped talking. Instead she got up from the table and went to the fridge to produce a slab of coffee cake to go with the coffee she was pouring me.

The door opened and my dad came into the kitchen and mom poured him a cup, and he looked at me. "When did you get back?" he asked.

"Dad, I was here yesterday," I said, "I said hi."

"I'll tell you a secret Pumpkin, I'm half fucking deaf and wear one of them invisible hearing aides. I turn it off whenever your grandmother is in the room. It's made all the difference in my life, and my blood pressure is down so your mom is letting me drink real coffee again."

I grinned, as I watched him drink said coffee with far more enjoyment than he usually did. The real coffee change must be recent, "You hear anything about anyone called Wrecking Ball?"

"Only Wrecking Ball I know about is that God Damned song that the drunk little girls sing in the back of my cab." Dad said, "Why?"

"I think it has something to do with Vinnie," I said, "I think Merlin's death was to distract me from something going down with him."

"I don't really think he's worth that much to anyone to go through that kind of trouble for," dad said, "He'd have to have pissed someone off really bad for that to happen, and if he did, I'd have heard about it by now. Hell you'd have heard about it by now. The kind of people Vinnie pisses off aren't exactly subtle about showing their displeasure."

"Yeah, I guess," I said. I got up from the table, "I'll be back tomorrow, to talk to grandma."

"What did you want to talk to her about?" Mom asked. Yeah, like I was going to answer that question. What was I going to say? That I needed to ask grandma details about the strips shows she attended daily as wife to Merlin the Big Wand.

"If I'm ever really mad at you, I'll tell you," I said.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: AHH! Okay so that was weird, I for sure posted 9, and then five showed up. Let me try again!**

 **So I got snowed in at my aunts and then promptly abandoned there while everyone went out to deal with life. So I had some time and maybe a lot of caffiene, and produced two more chapters. I'm editing the next one. It'll be up later this week.**

I left my parents' house and made a detour on the way back to Rangeman for beer. I had a six pack in hand, and was waiting in a ridiculously long line to pay for it, playing Candy Crush on my phone, when I got bumped by someone and one of the bottles nearly bit the dust. The man who bumped me, caught it, and put it back, saying a quick sorry. I was about to compliment him on his impressive snag, but he was already gone before I could get a good look at him. The place was packed, so I gave up, and I was about to go back to my game, when my phone rang in my hand, scaring the shit out of me.

I didn't recognize the number but I answered anyway.

"Yo," I said.

"Hello Steph it's Mike, do you have a minute?"

"I'm just about to pay for some beer, but then yeah I've got time."

"Could you swing by my office in about twenty minutes?"

"Yeah," I said. He gave me the address and I tapped it into a memo pad on my phone, and hung up. I paid for my beer, and went to his office.

Mike was working towards a Partnership at Barrow and Pearl. The offices mainly specialized in corporate law, but they were expanding their criminal and family law divisions, and Mike was going to be in charge of that expansion. The firm had recently taken over another floor in the building and Mike's section was still moving in. It smelled of fresh paint, and newly finished hardwood floors. There were massive fans for ventilating the fumes out of windows that only cracked open at the top. The sounds of renovations filled the waiting room and when Mike came out to greet me, he had a smudge of beige paint on his left sleeve.

"Hey Steph," he said, shaking my hand, "You just dumped a huge case on this firm, and normally I'd be in shit because I agreed to do it ProBono, but the publicity on this one is going to be huge. You've basically just confirmed my partnership, so thank you."

"You're welcome?" I said. I wasn't sure if that was actually a good thing or not, because he looked like he'd aged ten years since I last saw him and he looked like he was in need of a few thousand volts of caffeine. He brought me back to an office that was filled with partially unpacked boxes, and a pair of interns who were stacking books on shelves, in some sort of system. His desk was a big antique pedestal and looked like the only thing in the room that was fully operational. His laptop was open on it, and he had a dictaphone out and ready to go.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I know you're looking out for Vinnie on this one, and we share a bunch of clients, but as most of them, according to the system, were in violation of their Bond, and need to make bail again. The plan was for Connie to handle it at the courthouse, only we have a bit of a problem here, because a lot of these people don't have the money to make another down payment on the bond. They are hoping, since this is a clerical error, or potential tampering, that there would be a chance Mr. Plum would honor the original agreement."

"That's not going to fly," I said, "I mean they were all willing to jump bail to stick it to Vinnie. He isn't going to take that sort of risk just because they promise not to do it again. He's going to want to have some reassurances that's not going to happen again."

"In the case of Crystal though? It was legitimately not her fault."

"In Crystal's case maybe, but the people at the party?" I said.

"Were dosed with drugs that have altered their memories and made them suggestible. These are extenuating circumstances, Stephanie."

"Sure they are, but what do you want from me exactly? I'm not authorized to make these decisions for Vinnie, and I'm already taking a pay cut on this."

"I know; I was just hoping you might be willing to talk to Vinnie about it," he said.

"I can try, but he's a weasel; I don't think your chances are that great." I looked down at the dictaphone, and noticed that it was recording. The slimy… he was trying to get a record of a verbal agreement, without…. I smiled, "Can you tell me anything I don't know already about this?"

"I can't, attorney client privilege and all of that," he said, "This party they were throwing, it was for you right? You know they charged a cover to get in?"

"Did they?" I said, "Good payday for Mooner."

"Yeah, about that, the cover money was supposed to go to you. They made sure they had all the permits required to do the party legally so the money is yours fair and square. I was hoping that you might be willing to put it towards a legal defense for these people, since most of them don't even remember paying the cover."

"I don't know anything about it," I said, "I can't commit to anything without knowing for sure this is anything more than a rumur."

"I can confirm it, your friend Walter Dunphney, showed me the paper work. You're up about twenty grand."

"Cool," I said.

"But they were told that this money was to go to you, to help you get back on your feet, after a lost job. It was obtained under false pretenses."

"Is Mooner in trouble for that?"

"Well no; he said it was to help you get on your feet, but he didn't say specifically in any of the advertising that it was because you lost your job," he said, "It was implied."

"Ah," I said, "I'll think about it then."

"Stephanie," he said, "Be reasonable."

"Mike," I said, "I am being reasonable. Someone is out to screw my cousin and we don't know who. I may need this money to help with _his_ legal defense. Not to mention, my bank account isn't all that healthy half the time."

"Your husband drives a car that costs more than my house," Mike said.

"And I drive one that isn't worth the paint job it just got," I said, "I'm not trying to be greedy here, but I'm not going to commit to giving you twenty grand, that I'm taking your word for it, that I'm getting. If I find out that you're right, I'll consider it. But your firm agreed to do this pro bono, so why do we need to worry about them needing money for their defense? I'll talk to Vinnie about the bonds, but that's all I'm going to commit to."  
I reached forward and clicked off the tape recorder and took the tape. I pocketed it, and he made a noise of protest, "Can I ask you a question?"

"What?" He asked.

"If you have other devices I can't see, and you're recording me somewhere else without my knowledge, is it legal without a court order?"  
"No," he said, "I made no secret about that device being on Steph, and it was in plain sight."

"I know," I said, "Still, I'll keep the tape." I stood up to leave and turned back to him, "Do you have copies of the new court dates, in case this happens again? Vinnie might be more inclined to honor the original agreements if he has that information."

"I'll email it to Connie later today," he said, "No hard feelings?"

"I don't like being fucked with Mike," I said, "I'm not having the best week, so next time, just be up front okay?"  
I left the office, and dropped the tape in my purse. It was only 4:00 and while I could go back to the office, I figured it might not hurt to give Nicky a call before I went to bug Ranger again.

"Hey Cookie," he said, "About time you called."

"Got a few minutes?" I asked.

"I'm in Princeton, and I have some grocery shopping to do. Can you meet me at the market?"

"It's going to take me a little while," I said.

"I'll wait."

Nicky met me outside of a grocery store called the Natural Earth Market. He was in a shiny new Buick SUV and for a minute I considered just turning my car around. Shiny new cars for Nicky usually meant he was about to whack someone. I had assurances from him that he wouldn't take me out unless he was really convinced it was a good idea, but still... It gave me pause, and I decided it would be prudent to send Ranger a quick text to let him know where I was, before I got out of the car.

I hitched my bag over my shoulder and went to say hi. "You know, I think your get up in Florida suited your body better," Nicky said by way of greeting.

"When you saw me in Florida I was wearing a bikini and a coverup that barely covered anything," I said.

"It was a good look," he said with a wink. He grabbed a buggy from the front of the store and we went inside. Nicky was good looking in an aging mobster kind of way. There was absolutely no doubt in anyone's mind that he was a wise guy and lots of people gave him a wide birth. From what I was learning about Nicky, he had a softer side to him. He had a daughter who just married a surfer business tycoon, he loved his wife and as far as his kid was concerned, Harry was a regular businessman who thought Nicky's mafioso good looks lent him some weight in the world of New Jersey high finance. Nicky's real job was to guard Harry's body, and swat annoying little flies that bothered him (like the odd undercover cop, or snitch that pissed him off).

"What gives? I thought you stayed in Trenton most of the time? Why are we in Princeton?" I asked.

"I like this market," he said, "All organic, local produce, fresh goods, not going to cost an arm and a leg like some other places that say they have the same stuff."

"Okay," I said. It seemed a bit far to go for groceries, but I was down with it. He led me through the produce, explaining the best way to choose tomatoes, based on what you are using them for. How to knock on a melon so you knew it was ripe. How to pick the best pineapple, and then I learned that you're supposed to store them upside down if you want the best flavor. All in all it was an educational shopping trip that I was probably going to delete from my memory the next time I went shopping and headed straight for the beer and cereal. For now though I was enjoying sniffing some really nice looking strawberries and pretending that I could be domestic if I needed to.

We'd finished with the produce, and were waiting for his deli counter order, when he said, "It wasn't Harry."

"Okay," I said, "Which wasn't Harry? Grandma or Vinnie?"

"Vinnie; what the hell is up with your grandmother?" Nicky asked. I told him and he frowned. "I think I'm with you and Manoso on this one. Someone is trying to distract you from Vinnie. Vinnie is a disease, but he's connected to a bunch of people you don't want to fuck with. He's well insulated, provided he doesn't piss Harry off too much."

"Has someone been distracting Harry?" I asked.

"Only if you count some of his lieutenants getting whacked, and disrupting his business, so he has to spend a shit load of time in New York."

"So that's a big yes."

"Do the Cops have anything?"

"Do you mind if I talk to Ranger before I tell you anything?"

"I think that might be a good idea," Nicky said. Half an hour later, Nicky and I were drinking coffee, and eating strawberries, while sitting outside of a Dunkin Donuts, on the tailgate of my Range Rover, when Ranger and Tank drove up. We got off the back of my car, and Tank took my keys from me, and we relocated to the back of Nicky's car.

"You got here quick," I said.

"I was at the University; they have a visiting professor, who requires protection," Ranger said, snagging one of our fresh strawberries from me. There was something about watching Ranger eat fruit that made him seem more approachable. No idea what, it was just there. It was like he only really snacked on fruit when he was in a good mood. I grinned at him, it was kind of fun unraveling the man of mystery. Of course he had no idea what I was grinning about so he looked at me like he was sort of worried for my mental health.

"Nicky wants to know what the Cops have," I said.

"They have a tape, obtained by an undercover operative, and we have no idea what's on it, just that there is a connection to Vinnie."

"That's annoying," Nicky said. "I bet it has to do with that rat bastard, W.B. Wrecking Ball my ass, when I meet him, I think I'm going to take great pleasure in showing him where he can put his fucking wrecking ball."

"Um," I said, "Ew. What do you know about this guy?"

"He's on the inside, but we don't know which organization. He knows something about everyone, personal shit. Shit that nobody else seems to know. I'm talking family troubles and stuff."

"Is he blackmailing people with it?" I asked.

"No, he does something better. The other day Harry and me, we were reading this article about these people in history that are whaddaya call it," he snapped his fingers, by his ear, trying to improve his recall. "Lynch Pins. See these people, they can be anybody, important, or nobodies, it doesn't matter where you are in society, you could be a lynch pin and not know it. So these people, they get eliminated in some way, and it causes this chain of events that changes the course of history. Kill an Archduke, plunge the whole world into a war that nobody really understands, that sort of thing."

"And this is what WB does?" I asked, "How?"

"So this kid Louis Forelli," Nicky says, "He's a kid moved here from New York, running away from a bad situation. So Louis, having more street smarts than the average bear, makes some connections with Gruzzi's boys. He's doin' alright for himself, working as a mule mostly, but he thinks he's due a promotion. So he approaches his superior, and his superior says he'll think about it. Couple of days later, Louis is standing on a street corner, trying to move some product, when he gets whacked. Bullet right between they eyes, from a car across the street." Nicky tapped the center of his forehead, to aide our visual of a kid who just had his brains blown out. I didn't need help with that. I've seen that sort of thing up close. I didn't say anything and let Nicky keep on with his story.

"So, this is just a low level mook. Nobody gives two shits about this kid, except for Lisa Gruzzi, old man Gruzzi's grand daughter. Turns out Louis wasn't asking for a promotion because he was a pissant reaching above himself. Seems he fell for the boss's granddaughter, and she's pregnant with his kid. He wanted more money so he could do the right thing by her, and put a ring on her finger. He was planning on approaching the Old Man, the day you brought Gruzzi in for ignoring that dumbass charge."

"A girl's gotta pay rent," I said with a shrug.

"Well, she's upset and thinks her grandpa whacked the kid for getting her knocked up. She doesn't know he hasn't spoken to Gruzzi yet. So seeing his grandkid in an emotional state, upsets him and she ends up telling him everything. Gruzzi has no idea the kid's been whacked; in fact, he likes this kid and was thinking of introducing him to the grown ups table. So Gruzzi is pissed right? Wants to know who whacked the kid. He has some of his boys look into it, and they think it's the Carpellis, because Louis has been known to cross over into their turf to make a sale. Gruzzi knows where these boys spend their down time, and they decide they are going to go talk to them about the wisdom of taking on someone who works for Gruzzi's family.

Big shoot 'em up. Lots of bodies, straight out of Capone's biography shit. It's a complete shit show, and Carpelli responds by sending a bunch of men to Gruzzi's social club all the top brass are there, what they don't know is WB, has let the PD know there is going to be a big confrontation, and who was responsible for the body count in the first place. All of the top brass of both organizations, are wiped out because they were either killed or looking at serious jail time. Now there's a whole lotta people looking for work and WB is hiring. He swoops in, picks up the best of what's left over, and welcomes them into the fold."

"I take it that's not the only time?" I said.

"It's how he's as big as he fucking is now. And he's got some serious talent working for him now."

"Like who?" I asked, "Someone he poached from somewhere?"

"Nobody knows who the hell it is," he said, "He's fucking good. He takes out the lynch pins, from close range, he's creative too, but nobody has seen the prick. Not once."

I think I know someone who had. I was almost certain of it. I looked at Ranger and hoped he was feeling psychic. We needed to question Joyce together, he needed to convince her to sit with a sketch artist or something. Maybe let her think she's getting somewhere with him? Though I don't think I could stomach watching that. Though in fairness, for years he has watched me flirt with guys on the job, and it's usually a turn on for him. But Joyce.  
"You're going to short a fuse, Babe. Focus on this for now," Ranger said and turned to Nicky, "I've got a man on Edna…"

"Jeeze… You giving him hazard pay?" Nicky asked.

"He's doing it for the entertainment value," Ranger said.

"Well there is that, but I'd have him looked at for thrill issues."

"They're kind of a job requirement," I said. Nicky considered that for a second and nodded his head in agreement.

"You want me to keep ears out for her, in my circles?"

"My usual guy is off on parental leave," Ranger said.

"I'll see what I can do," Nicky said, "Need anything else from me?"  
"A list of these lynch pins and how they fucked things up would be good," I said. Nicky reached behind him and produced a pink file, and handed it to me.

"And because I like you Manoso, here's a tip, get you're housekeeper to do her shopping here in Princeton. The produce is delicious."

"She already does," Ranger said.

"How do you know he has a housekeeper?" I asked.

"Come on Cookie," Nicky said, "I ain't stupid. You're about as domesticated as the feral cats that live behind the bonds office, and he doesn't have time to be."

Jeeze, he could have been nicer about it. I mean feral cats? He couldn't have picked something a little more majestic? Oh who was I kidding, I was lucky he didn't compare me the crazy lady on the Simpsons that throws cats at everyone.

He left us with the strawberries, and we relocated to a picnic table behind the restaurant. It was surrounded by cigarette buts, probably belonging to the employees of the place. Romantic venue it wasn't but it was reminiscent of the alley, only this was a bit nicer and I'd never complained about hanging out in the alley before.

"So I may have a solution to our housing issue," he said.

"Oh before I forget, I told Joyce we live in my place because you live on a vacant lot, and I'm not good at camping."

"Until the building on Haywood was ready, that's what I did," he said with a shrug, "Didn't see the point of renting a place, when I was going to have one in a couple of months."

"Why the hell didn't you stay in Newark with family?" I asked.

"The shit I was doing back then was not the sort of thing you want following you back to loved ones," he said, "I didn't have a lot of money after buying Haywood and I just got back from living in a tent, in a place a helluva lot worse than Trenton. Seemed easy."

"Yeah, I love you, but you wouldn't have gotten me into your bed then. I don't do tents."

"I never thought you did, Babe," he said. "Besides, the weird spring on my side of the bed at your place, somehow manages to strip some trigger points in my back while I sleep, so I'm always very well rested when I sleep over."

"In my experience, you don't seem to do much sleeping at my place, and maybe it's all the sex and not the bed that relaxes you."

"Might have had something to do with it," he said.

"What's your plan?" I asked.

"Chase is going to be building a community, just outside of Trenton. It's going to be gated, and he wants Rangeman to run the security. It won't be like Florida, because there won't be a resort attached to it." Roman Chase was a billionaire real estate developer, that owned the resort we were living in, in Florida.

"How long will it take to get the house?"

"A year, maybe two," he said, "If you're in no rush we can take our time figuring out what we want."

"Does it have to be a huge mansion type house?"

"Nope," he said, "I'd prefer not, actually. There is a treed lot that looks good from a security standpoint; we can check it out tomorrow if you want."

"Sure," I said. He took the empty strawberry container to the trash and I went to get into the passenger seat of the car, when he stopped me.

"If Joyce saw the man responsible for the hits, her life is in danger. As tempting as it is to ignore that, you won't be able to live with yourself if something happens to her because you involved her. You can't go back to her house, it has to look like we think she's a dead end. I'll have someone pick her up discretely."

He tilted my chin up, and pressed a soft kiss to my lips, "Did you really have a job out here in Princeton or were you following me?" I asked.

"I may have noticed you were heading out this way, and decided to join Tank on the consultation," he said, "You're very bad for my concentration lately."

"Who knew a wedding ring was such a turn on?" I grinned. He kissed me again, this time with a lot more tongue and he shifted me back on the picnic table. We might have said fuck reality, had it no been so insistent upon intruding. First there was the fact that when he shifted me backwards I got a splinter in my ass through my jeans, but he didn't notice my wince, because his phone started buzzing in his pocket.

He checked the read out and answered it without a word, and I could just make out the sound of someone on the other side, but not what they were saying. "How time sensitive is this?"

He looked at his watch and I felt the pit in my stomach begin to form. The one that always formed when I knew Ranger was going away for who knows how long. This is what I signed on for, and I knew it. I just hoped it wouldn't be so soon after we got married.

"You wouldn't be calling me if it was a simple extraction," he said, "I can be wheels up by 0900, no sooner… Fuck. Find Street, tell him I'll owe him one."

He hung up his phone. "Bat Signal?"

"If all goes well, I'll only be gone about a week," he said.  
I nodded, and got into the car. He glanced at me once he got in, his posture looked a little tense and I figured he was waiting for a reaction. I wasn't going to get pissed about him leaving in the middle of a family crisis. At a time when I needed him, I promised him I'd be understanding so as much as it hurt, I was going to be. "Let me have Lester as my bitch," I said, "His brain is wired weird; maybe he can figure out what the hell is going on with the bullets that has every one else stumped. Hey I just had a thought, probably where you're going is somewhere warm and exotic, when you get there, do what you need to do, and then pretend you need me to help you with something. We can stay wherever that is until after the wedding reception."

"The timing is shitty," he said, "But I have very little control. They give me time to get my affairs in order, and that's usually it. Sometimes I don't even get that much."

"I know," I said, "I don't ever like it when you leave, but I deal, and I promised you I'd deal with it after we got married. Just say goodbye properly tonight."

We drove back to Trenton in a semi comfortable silence. Semi comfortable because there was no way I could get at the splinter without it looking like I was picking my ass. We weren't married enough for that yet. We swung by my mother's house to pick up Rex, and then went back to Rangeman. I dropped Ranger off on five so he could do whatever it is he does to get ready to go in the wind, and to arrange to have Joyce brought in quietly. I went up to seven, feeling a little blue, because the timing did suck, and I was glad we'd decided to pick up Rex so the place didn't feel so empty. I fobbed my way into the apartment, and walked into the kitchen, and put Rex down on the counter, so my hands were free to hit the lights.

As soon as the switch went on, the air in the apartment was filled with an ear splitting scream that made me jump out of my skin and made the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!"


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Okay this really is probably it until after Christmas (I dunno, anything can happen; we might get snowed in again and I'll get loads more writing done) Thanks for your reviews and I hope you enjoy this new installment.**

The source of the scream came from a perch just behind the counter. Lunchbox, apparently now over his fear of Rex, hopped off of his perch and did his funny bobbing walk around the cage. "What the fuck is that!" He repeated.

"It's a hamster, play nice," I said, trying to restart my heart. What the hell was the bird doing here? The bird didn't pay me any attention as he examined Rex. Rex stood perfectly still, probably having dropped a few hamster kernels when the bird startled him too.

Lunchbox tugged at one of the bars with his big beak and then climbed up the cage and looked down at Rex from a different angle. The latch on Rex's cage caught his attention, and the bird made for it. "Oh no you don't! Rex isn't good at freedom," I said. I bribed him away from the cage with a chunk of banana, and we shared it, while I regrouped.

"You sounded like someone dying," I said to Lunchbox. He ignored me and put one of his feet on my hand, waiting patiently for another chunk.

I gave him the last of it, and said, "Ranger is downstairs; wanna go find him?"

"Fuckin' A," the bird said. He did his drunken glide to the ground, and I led him to the door and into the elevator. He heeled better than most dogs really, and he spoke back, so you didn't feel like a total idiot for talking to him in front of people.

Tank was standing at the monitors, when we came out of the elevator and Lunch Box made a beeline for him, ran up his pant leg, and shirt and climbed up onto Tank's head. Tank rolled his eyes upward, like he was trying to see the top of his head, "What the fuck are you doing here, bird?"

"He was in the apartment when I went up," I said.

Lester walked out of his cubicle, and walked into a wall of a sudden need to stop laughing, and staggered a step back. "Didn't know you were into pink feathers, Tank," Lester said because he couldn't help himself. His voice was choked, and he looked like he was having trouble breathing. He couldn't out right laugh or Tank would, well, he'd harm Lester.

"Shut up asshole," this was from the bird, not Tank. He was a clever bird, and apparently caught on quickly. I walked to Ranger's office, as Lunch Box didn't seemed too inclined to leave Tank's head, and tapped on the door with the back of my hand, Ranger grunted his permission to enter, and I opened the door.

"We have a visitor," I said and crooked a finger at him.

He gave me a quasi-quizzical look, got out from behind his desk, and came out to the doorway. I nodded to Tank, and Ranger glanced over at the Big Guy. Tank was bent over a keyboard, completely back to work, ignoring the strangled laughter being forced out of the normally stoic Rangemen, as Lunch Box preened himself on Tank's head.

Ranger snapped his fingers and Lunch Box became instantly alert and scrambled down Tank's back and legs, and ran to Ranger. "Thank's Boss," Tank said absently while he did his thing. Ranger crouched in front of Lunch Box and scratched the back of the bird's head before picking him up. He carried him into the office and put him on the desk. He pulled a padlock out of his desk and handed the bird a lock pick. I'd seen Lunch Box pick a lock before, and it was apparently the best way to keep him occupied for a few minutes. It was pretty damned impressive actually. I sat down in one of Ranger's guest chairs, and Lunch Box dragged the lock to me, and put it in my hand. I held it for him, as it was clearly what he wanted me to do, and he started working the lock.

"That should keep him busy for a while," Ranger said. He picked up his phone and hit Ella's extension. "Why do I have a bird?" he listened to her for a beat, "For how long?" He seemed satisfied with her answer and hung up.

"So? Are we proud parents of a pink cockatoo?" I asked.

"Father Mayhew is going overseas for a few months, and the man who usually looks after him died last week. He called Ella to see if I would take him."

"And she said yes without consulting you?"

"Evidently," he said, "He's easy to look after; he just can't get bored."

"He tried to spring Rex," I said.

"We'll have to bring Rex down to your office," Ranger said, "He won't hurt him, but he doesn't like cages and he'll do his best to trash Rex's."

"What do I feed him? I mean we shared a banana earlier, but I'm guessing he eats more than that?"

"Ella will take care of it; she's looked after him before, and if you have problems with him, get Tank. The bird loves him," Ranger said. All while we were talking, Lunch Box was using his beak and the pick, to work the lock, with little success.

"Let's go," Ranger said, Lunch Box dropped the lock and pick and hopped down onto my knee and then to the floor. I grinned, I know he was pink and everything, but the bird really was the perfect pet for Ranger. I took the lock and pick, figuring we'd probably need it upstairs, and followed them out of the office and into the elevator. As soon as we were in the apartment, Lunch Box went back to his perch and Ranger gave him back the lock and pick.

"How much is he going to cramp our style?" I asked. The last thing I wanted was commentary if we decided to do it in the kitchen, or worse, to find a bird on my head while I was playing cowgirl on Ranger's lap.

"He won't," Ranger said, and to illustrate that point, he hooked a finger in my belt loop and pulled me close. I stood on my toes, and kissed him for a change, when my ass landed on the counter again, and Ranger started trailing kisses down my throat. I was really getting into it, when suddenly I had a vivid flashback of Joyce on my kitchen table with Dickie. It was so off putting I shoved Ranger away, and dug the heels of my palms into my eye sockets to get the image to go away.

"Fuck," I said. Ranger cocked an eyebrow.

"Care to share?" he asked.

"Joyce wants to fuck you on my kitchen table," I said.

"Well that has effectively killed the mood," Ranger said.

"I know, I'm sorry, but I just remembered her and Dickie, and…"

"We need a change of venue," Ranger said, "But later, Ella will be here in a minute to pack for me."

There was a squawk of triumph behind us and then a "Take that bitches!" as Lunch Box managed the lock. He dropped it and hopped off his perch to come check out what we were doing, now that we weren't making out.

Ranger absently scratched Lunch Box's head and opened the fridge to grab us each a beer. He cracked each of them and handed me one, and Lunch Box went absolutely ape shit and started attacking the beer.

"What the fuck!" I shouted, dumping half of the beer on me. Then Ranger seized it from me and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. He dumped what was left into the glass and flipped the beer bottle over. On the bottom of the bottle was a sticker with a picture of a Chimera.

The dude who nearly knocked the six pack out of my hands, must have planted that. That much was clear, and I was about to tell Ranger about it when he held a hand over my mouth briefly, to stop me from speaking further. He led me to the bathroom and put me in the shower, with Lunch Box, leaving the water off, and backed me into a corner. He then reached into the back of his pants and pulled out one of his guns, and handed it to me.

He leaned close, right to my ear and whispered, "I will knock twice. Shoot anyone else who comes in."

With that he walked out, and locked the bathroom door behind him. Okay so now I was officially scared out of my mind. Ranger was good, really good, so this plan probably seemed like a good idea to him. Easy, someone comes in without knocking and I just have to kill them. NBD. Only it was a BD. First, I hated doing that and second, this was a master killer; what the hell chance did I have of killing him before he killed me if that was his intention?

I didn't have long to think about it, before I heard two sharp knocks on the door, and I relaxed as Ranger let himself back in to the bathroom. He walked over to me with a big black paddle shaped wand. He waved it the length of my body and it made a weird noise at my left pant's pocket. He put his hand in the pocket and came out with a candy bar wrapper, two pieces of paper, a stone, a hair elastic and a fridge magnet. He put the handful of crap down on the counter and ran the wand over the rest of me, getting no response. Just in case he stripped me down, and put all of my stuff into a garbage bag and took it out of the room.

I heard the apartment door alarm beep as he opened and then closed the door again. In a second he was back in the bathroom. Without his shirt, which he tossed at me before examining the crap from my pocket. Looking at it like that, it sort of resembled the pocket contents of a ten year old boy.

The fridge magnet was from the Florida Keys. It was rectangular, about the size of a business card and had a picture of a croc in front of a Mangrove Forest, with _FLORIDA_ stamped in bright pink at an angle at the bottom of the picture. And I had no idea where it had come from. One of the pieces of paper was a crumpled reciept from the market, and the last was a phone number.

"Who does this belong to?" Ranger asked, referring to the phone number.

"I have no idea and the magnet isn't mine either," I said.

He pulled a little grey bag out of his pocket and dropped the magnet into it. That done he took my hand and brought me out to the bedroom. He motioned for me to sit on the bed, and went to the safe in his closet, coming back with his satellite phone. He dialed the number on the slip of paper; the phone picked up and nobody said anything.

"I suppose you are looking to arrange for a meeting?" Ranger said.

The voice that spoke next had the creepy electronic alternating sound that the bad guys always used on TV Shows. And apparently he had similar phone manners to Ranger.

"I thought it might be an idea," the voice said, "If for no other reason than it might be nice to meet the man they keep sending after me."

"I'm not hunting you," Ranger said, "I'm just consulted periodically regarding you."

"You've taken some things from my playbook. It's nice to see someone competent use them instead of the amateurs that like to try," the voice said.

"The twin guns are a becoming a problem."

"It's a good thing I'm retired, because I'm going to have to stop using that one. Once you use it too many times, the cops will figure out how it's done, and it's useless. I mean you picked up on me five minutes after you walked onto that fucking crime scene and that's because they got sloppy."

"Want to tell me how it's done?" Ranger asked.

"In the past, exactly how you've heard I did it. I'm old now, don't have the patience and my eyesight is shit. There's technology out there that works better. Your clue is in the residue. Your machines will have it analyzed soon and I'm sure once you run your results through your computer, even if you can't figure it out, your wife will. She thinks further outside of the box than you do. I've been watching her career for a while now."

"Why?" I asked.

"Ahh Stephanie, I should have realized you were listening," he said, "He's smart; he's not like the cop, he doesn't keep important shit from you. You made the right choice."

"That didn't answer her question," Ranger said.

"An old friend was worried about her, so I've been keeping an eye on her," he said, "I've been looking out for her since before you knew her Carlos."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"Who do you think called in that tip when she was working for the Mob?" he said, "I was fine with her working there until word got out that she was about to be promoted to management. It would have been okay except they were going to set her up to take the fall. I figured she'd be better off unemployed than in prison."

"Uh, thanks for that," I said. I mean sure he saved me from prison, but I was actually quite pissed. I lost a pretty sweet car because of that, and was nearly kicked out of my piece of shit apartment. Okay sure it resulted in me meeting Ranger, saving Morelli's ass and helping prevent a bunch of other shit that could have been really majorly bad, and okay, I had a job that I didn't have to wear pantyhose at, but, still. The prick got me fired!

"Babe," Ranger said. I hadn't been paying attention to him, so I missed the expression that went along with it, and he was giving off no visible clues of any sort of emotion, so I was having a little trouble figuring out what he meant by that particular Babe. Probably he wanted me focus on this, instead of being pissed off about a mediocre job I lost a lot of years ago.

"A lot of people have pinned the blame on you for years, why the fuck do you care now?" Ranger asked, "Why risk coming out of retirement?"

"I'm 87 years old give or take, and I've had two knee replacements, and I'm looking at a new hip. What the fuck do you think would drag my sorry ass out of retirement?" He replied.

"Understood," Ranger said with a smirk, "Are they aware?"

"No, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Understood," Ranger said again, "How close?"

"I have my eye on that situation; you keep your focus on your investigation and stop looking at me. Here is all you need to know from my end of shit. I saw someone try to do what I did, about a year ago, and he blew up his fucking hand, the idiot. So his partner put him down and dumped him off of a boat about fifteen miles out to sea. He got his orders from someone to do it, and he didn't even hesitate a second. He's been working with the guy he snuffed since they were kids and he just offed him and moved on. The kind of person that inspires that kind of loyalty, is worth watching. Only I can't find them either, and frankly it irked me. So because I was curious, I figured, I'd let it be known that I was interested in augmenting my retirement fund, and about six months ago I get a call, they've been having issues with my technique, and they wanna know what they have to do to fix it. I tell them they are going about it all wrong, there are easier ways, so I tell them what they need to do."

"Which is?" I asked.

"A trade secret Sweetheart," the voice said, "One that I'm not going to volunteer to anyone affiliated with law enforcement, until I'm long fucking gone. Since I'm sticking my neck out right now, I'm not exactly going to volunteer the information that could get me nailed for a bunch of other hits, when I'm innocent of these last four."

"We're going to figure it out," I said.

"Of that I have no doubt," he said, "I'll tell you this, you wanna consider firing pins, and propellant."

"I'd already taken the propellant into account," Ranger said.

"You're gonna wanna consider alternate firing pins."

"No much point without a shell casing," Ranger said.

"If you say so," the voice said.

"Is that the only reason you called?"

"The vic that roped you two into this," he said, "He's not a distraction. He was a hit that WB planned about four months ago. Don't ask me why, I don't have a god damned clue. WB just called me and asked me if I wanted to get my hands dirty. He wanted to know if I can make it look like someone specific. I can, and I tell them what I need. Then the night your stripper gets killed, I get a call asking me to meet at the club. I go, and they tell me our patsy has changed. That's when I told them I was out. WB has a tendency to go off half cocked when he's pissed about something, and changing a plan at the last minute, when you're pissed, is how you get caught."

"Have you met WB?" I asked.

"Only speak on a burner phone with a voice modulator. This guy is smart, real smart, but you can press his buttons. Get him to do stupid shit."

"Is this related to Vinnie in someway?" I asked.

"The Vinnie plan is what I mean; it's stupid shit. He pissed off WB somehow, and WB came up with this fucking plan. I think switching the patsy to your grandmother, was because of Vinnie. You just need to know that Wylitt's hit was always part of the program."

"On paper, Wylitt is a boy scout," I said, "What could he have possibly done?"

"You're going to have to talk to his partner about that," The voice said. There was a pause, "I'd love to chat more kids, but something has come up."

Ranger's phone beeped twice to indicate the disconnection. He dialed another number and said, "I've been contacted by Chimera, please advise… I may have a lead… JigSaw is bored and sitting in an office in Florida; it's about time he met Street anyway."

He hung up his phone without another word, and locked it in the safe.

"Get dressed," he said shortly, and walked out of the bedroom.

Was he pissed at me? I stared after him and let my hackles rise. This wasn't my fault! I had no damned idea that the dude that bumped into me in the store was some mythical hit man who may or may not have existed. The guy had been too quick for me to think he was nearly 90 years old. And it wasn't like he was a big dude. Not that he had to be, but I would think someone who is supposed to be Ranger's hero would at least be a little tall.

How the hell was I supposed to know he'd slipped something in my pocket. Ranger came back into the bedroom, my hackles were still up and I was prepared to defend myself. He glanced at me, "You might want to put a move on. Your mother is holding dinner for us, for half an hour, and I doubt she is going to appreciate you showing up in just my t-shirt. Your call though."

He walked into the closet and I heard his belt hit the floor with a thud, meaning he was changing out of his work clothes, I walked in as he was putting a belt through the loop of a pair of dark grey jeans. "I got bumped into, in the middle of a busy grocery store. I didn't tell you because about twenty people bumped into me and I didn't think anything of it. If you want me to keep a record of that sort of shit you have to tell me, so don't start getting mad at me for that."

He looked at me, his face expressionless, and tugged a v-necked cashmere sweater over his head, and then he checked his gun before putting it in the holster at his back. "I'm serious Ranger. How the fuck was I supposed to know that happened?"

"You weren't."

"Then why the hell are you giving me the fucking silent treatment?" I said, "I don't like it Ranger!"

"Turn around," he said.

"What?"

"Turn around," he repeated. I turned and he came up behind me and lifted up the shirt. "Go lie face down on the bed."

"What the hell makes you think I'm up for some kinky punishment right now? I'm pissed Ranger."

"You have a splinter the size of Texas in your right ass cheek; I'm going to take it out before it gets infected."

"Oh," I said, deflating a bit. I still wanted to talk about this, but the splinter was driving me fucking crazy and it hurt whenever I thought about it. A few minutes later the splinter was gone and I had a Band-aid on my ass cheek, and a feel better kiss over the Band-aid.

I got dressed and I added a bra, a pair of yoga pants and underwear to Ranger's shirt and we left the apartment. We were in the elevator down to the car when I realized Ranger had thawed considerably.

"You're in a better mood," I commented and Ranger's shoulder's twitched with a silent chuckle, and he kissed my temple but didn't say anything. "What?"

"I wasn't mad at you," he said, "you were wound up from the call. I just needed to pull the stick out of your ass before you could relax enough to realize it."

"Par for the course for us really," I said.

"I appreciate the literal spin you put on it this time."

"So that phone call, does that mean you're not leaving?"

"That's what it means. I've been semi hunting Chimera for years; he's priority now."

Dinner was a candied ham, with mashed potatoes, creamed corn, steamed carrots and broccoli. Ranger astonished everybody at the table by actually putting the broccoli on his plate, to go with the carrots. Usually the broccoli was there as a garnish, unless we smothered it with cheese sauce. He stayed away from the potatoes too.

Dinner that night was its usual chaos, the kind usually reserved for Sunday Dinners, and it took me a beat to realize that it was actually Sunday. The days had blurred together and the lack of a roast had thrown me off completely. Val and her brood were there. Her husband, Albert Kloughn, was sitting next to Ranger, and sweating profusely. He kept looking at Ranger's biceps that, while encased in a sweater instead of the usual painted on shirt, were still pretty hard to miss. Ranger was relaxed but he suffered from resting scary-as all-fucking-hell, face. For a man with a nervous disposition, like Kloughn (who also had a clear view of the bulge at the back of Ranger's sweater that clearly indicated a gun) it was the sort of thing to make a guy a bit twitchy.

"Sorry about dinner tonight," mom said when she sat down, "They were out of pot roast at the butchers."

"I like ham," I said.

My dad didn't say anything, he was just head down and shoveling his food into his mouth. The noise at the table was reaching deafening levels, as the girls and the baby competed to see who could be the loudest; all trying to tell my mom what they did that day, at the same time. It was the perfect antidote to the mild maternal twinge I had when I met Electra today. It reminded me why I was comfortable with the idea of not having kids. Besides, we had Julie, and she was pretty fucking awesome.

I was trying to figure out what the hell we were doing here tonight, when grandma came in the door. She was dressed in black, and looked a bit down. She smiled when she saw us, "This is a nice surprise!"

"I was wondering where you were," I said, and went to hug her.

"Merlin's sister came to Trenton to help with the arrangements, and wanted to go to dinner," she said, "I would like to go to bed if you don't mind; it's been a long day."

My mom got up from the table, so did Val, together they ushered grandma upstairs, making a big fuss over her, as she was clearly really down and not even trying to hide it anymore. I would have gone too, but Ranger caught my eye and shook his head slightly. We finished dinner, without mom and Val, and afterwards, Kloughn and to my surprise, Ranger, helped the girls with their homework. My dad took the baby, and I cleared and did the dishes. Nobody volunteered to do anything, we all just divided the labor mom, grandma and Val, usually did, without even thinking about it.

After dinner was cleared up, the homework was done, and I had mom and Val's plates keeping warm in the oven, we went to the living room. Ranger and dad sat down and watched a ball game together making the occasional comment about different players' statistics, while Albert put the baby down in the playpen in my old bedroom and the older girls played quietly.

The whole thing was far too subdued. Was it Ranger's calming influence, or was it because grandma, the usual bright spark at any occasion, was so quiet? Nothing got her down, she was one of the strongest people I'd ever met, and she seemed defeated. It wasn't a good feeling.

Mom and Val came downstairs and I joined them in the kitchen.

"How is she doing?" I asked.

"She's ticked that we won't leave her alone," Val said, as she pulled her dinner out of the oven and sat at the kitchen table. She reached across the table and took my left hand, "I haven't seen these close up yet."

She looked at both rings and then let go of my hand and went to her dinner without saying a word. Mom got them each a glass of wine and sat down, "Have you given any more thought to what you're going to wear?"

"No, because I spent the afternoon with Vinnie, Joyce Barnhardt, and Nicky the Sparrow. It sort of slipped my mind."

"Ugh why did you go hang out with Joyce?" Val asked.

"Not by choice; I wanted to know if she knew anything about Vinnie. All I learned is that she and Lucile share a Gynaecologist. And Joyce is being blackmailed by a little girl. It sort of warmed my heart."

"Why is she being blackmailed?"

"Because she wants to date the kid's dad. She's paying the kid a $100 a day to pretend she likes her." I left out that the father in question was gay, because that was just for me and Ranger when I told him.

"What made you decide to come to dinner after all?" Mom asked.

"I dunno, we were talking about looking at a property earlier and I guess Ranger was feeling domestic."

I didn't want to tell them that a world renown assassin had been in touch and knew A LOT about our family. That the real reason we were here is likely because Ranger was checking up on them to make sure they were all safe. If I had to bet, they would all have security on them starting now.

My niece Angie came into the kitchen and sat beside her mom. She showed her a notebook and said,"All done."

"Already?" Val said.

"Uncle Ric explained it better than Mrs. Pierce did," Angie said, "It's easier his way and once I know the answer I can do it the other way, way faster."

"Uncle Ric?" I said.

"Yup; he is our uncle now right?"

"Yeah," I said, "Is that what he said to call him?"

"He said I could call him whatever I wanted, but his other nieces and nephews call him that," she said, "Then Mary-Alice asked if she could call him Ranger Ric. He said no."

The world stopped turning, like full stop. Val looked like she was worried her middle child was going to need witness relocation or something; mom was looking at me like she was worried I was gonna have a stroke, because I was stuck. I didn't know where to go with that. I was torn between horror that she would ask that, feeling stupid because I'd never thought of it before, and the inability to crack a joke, because there were so many fighting to come forward that I couldn't choose. I mean Ranger would tolerate one, maybe two, before he put a permanent end to them so whatever I chose had to be perfect. I reached across the table and took mom's wine, and pounded it back. I figured if I got drunk, Natural Selection would go to work on my brain cells, killing off the weaker jokes.

The man himself came into the kitchen about fifteen minutes later, and I took Val's wine. He gave me a look that was clearly asking me why I was attempting to get hammered. Considering it only took a glass and a half of wine to accomplish that, he was going to be cleaning up a mess, aka me, in about two minutes. "We were just talking plans for the reception."

"Liar," he said. Then he nodded his head towards the door, "I've got to go back to work; do you want to come with me now, or am I pouring you into the truck when I get off?"

"I'll come with you now," I said, and immediately blushed because you could take that sentence a couple of ways, and my already pickling brain defaulted to the gutter. I stood up and staggered a little.

"Babe," Ranger said.

"It's not that bad."

He smirked and I followed him out to the Cayenne. Natural Selection must have been feeling lazy or my brain cells were all just equally screwed, because not only did the weak jokes die, my ability to think clearly at all, went with them. You could say this about me, at least I was a cheap date. It was hitting me faster than it usually did, and that was surprising because I had a shit load of carbs today. I should have been able to avoid being sloshed.

"I blame you for this," I said.

He just looked at me out of the corner of his eye.

"You've fucked up my circadian rhythm and I have no tolerance."

"You might want to try that sentence again," Ranger said. Okay so it wasn't as clear as it sounded in my head.

"I'm sleeping stupid hours, and my body doesn't know what it's doing. I shouldn't be this drunk already. It's your fault," I said.

"Or you basically pounded back a bottle of wine in under twenty minutes," he said, "Those were large wine glasses."

"It's your sex drive!" I said.

"Babe."

"No it is! It's out of control here, and I like it, and it's fucking contagious."

"Aptly put."

"It's true! You're conditioning me to need sex every time you move in bed, and now if you roll over I am wide awake and…"

I wasn't sure where that sentence was going, so I was glad it tapered off on a yawn and I had an excuse not to continue.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked.

"NO!"

He hung a left into a Starbucks drive thru and ordered me a bucket of coffee. I made it about three sips into it, before I put my head against the window. Ten minutes after that, I was face down, sideways on the bed, and I was wearing a towel, having apparently showered and my hair hurt. Ranger was peeling me off of the bed, for the sole purpose of being able to get into it with me. He ditched my towel for me, and made me drink a glass of water, and take an aspirin, before I got back into bed and died.

The next morning, my desire to face the world was nada. I was pretty sure I was hangover free, because I really hadn't had that much to drink. I say pretty sure, because I hadn't summoned the courage to open my eyes, or move. I had a pillow over my face and I was lying in a full starfish position in the middle of the bed. I couldn't really do anything as far as Wylitt was concerned, because ballistics was Ranger's thing. I suppose I could work on mapping out the dominos from the names on the list Nicky gave me. There might be something in them. That sounded about as appealing as taking the pillow off of my face.

 _Or you could go talk to Wylitt's partner, and see what his dirty little secret was. You should bring Lula. Do that, and she'll either bond with the strippers, or she'll scare the hell out of them, and they'll tell the truth just get you to leave._ Well shit, natural selection did work when it came to brain cells, because that was an idea.

I got dressed in jeans and a stretchy red top, crammed my hair into a ponytail and under one of Ranger's hats, put on a few swipes of mascara and went down to five, to hunt down my husband. I needed to assuage my Hangover Paranoia, and maybe apologize for the way I cussed him out, for making me drink the glass of water.

Tank was in the monitor room, when I got off on five, looking bored.

"Hey Big Guy," I said, "Is he in the office?"

"Yup," Tank said.

"I'm thinking I'm going to ride with Lula today; do you have any love notes you'd like me to pass on?"

"Nope," he said, "By the way, she says she's forgiven you and all, but you may want to do some sucking up."

"Why do you say that?"

"She had some fun with your apartment. She called my house at like two in the morning a little while after you guys went to Florida, and said that you needed to be reminded of your greatest hits. Took me three fucking days to clean out all of the booby traps and I still don't think I got them all."

"What do you mean by booby traps?"

"Well, let's just say, the explosive riddled, stuffed chipmunk was the least of your worries," Tank said.

"Oh God," I said.

"Suck up," Tank said.

I nodded dumbly and realized that if my day was starting off like this, I might want to skip Monday and try life again tomorrow. I went to Ranger's office and knocked on his door, before I went in. "I'm going to take Lula to talk to some strippers, and maybe buy her a closet's worth of shoes, and shove her face full of as much fried everything as she can handle."

"Have fun," he said. He pulled my gun out of his desk and slid it across to me. I rolled my eyes and shoved it into my shoulder bag.

"I just thought I'd let you know, so my secret Rangeman tail, had a heads up that they might have to brave a mall. If they want to blend in, they need to practice not looking like… I dunno, I can't finish that. Insert something scary here."

"I'll let them know," he said.

"How much of the staff is out trailing my family since that call yesterday?"

"They were on your family the moment you said yes to my first proposal."

"Why did we go to dinner at my parent's house last night?"

"Because I figured it was only a matter of time before that call freaked you out and you needed to see them with your own eyes to make sure they were okay."

"One day, I won't be so predictable," I said with a sigh.

"Babe, if you were as predictable as you think, I wouldn't spend a small fortune on GPS trackers, to stick anywhere I think you'll let me get away with."

Ranger hadn't looked away from his computer while he was speaking and his eyes narrowed slightly, "That's… interesting."

"What is?"

Ranger got up from his desk, walked around, gave me a hell of a kiss goodbye, and jogged down the stairs. I looked at his computer and saw a screen full of firing pins for 357 Magnums. 


	11. Chapter 11

**_I hope everybody has had a great holiday so far! I want to thank you for your good wishes and your reviews. Santa has apparently decided to bring me my creativity back for Christmas, and I've been working on a few things. Including something about Joe and a florist he meets, at the end of this story. Most importantly I've been working on Friday. So here is your next installment, and I hope you enjoy it._**

Since I had absolutely no idea where Ranger went, or how long he would be gone, I decided to take advantage of the situation and went to Lester's cubicle. "I have a problem. It's a big one. A huge problem, and I need your help."

He eyed me warily, "Oookay."

"I have two words for you: Ranger. Ric."

His reaction was pretty much the same as mine was. Part of me wondered if that statement caused a glitch in the Matrix and now Lester was only seeing things in scrolling code. "We get one shot at this. It's gotta be good," he finally said.

"That's exactly what I thought too!"

"That's why you got drunk last night wasn't it?" he said.

"I was trying Darwinism on my brain. It didn't work for what I wanted it to. It's like all the possible smart ass remarks collided and neutralized each other. I can't think of a damn thing."

"Me too," he said, "I mean, he's my cousin; it's my job to be a pain in his ass. How the fuck have I not thought of this? You at least have a cloud of lust fogging up your brain as an excuse."

"We're the only ones who can get away with it without getting fired," I said. He agreed. "I mean you'll get your ass kicked."

"Absolutely, so it has to be worth it," he said, "I can't… This is going to be my day now. How the fuck am I going to get anything done?"

"Volunteer for a stakeout," I said, "Or monitor duty."

He nodded slowly. "Yes that should do it, I mean I don't want to have to resort to Google…"

"Yeah because it would be on the Server and Hector would know," I said, "I mean he's my pal and I'm sure we could trust him, but…"

"No, your first instinct is correct; it has to be between us," he said, "You keep your head in the Grandma game, and trust me with this one."

"How do I suck up to Lula?" I asked.

"That bag with the purple furry shit on it," he said, "Give it to her; it's not like it's your style anyway."

"I'd kiss you, but I think I've endangered your life enough today," I said.

"Yeah, I don't have those kinds of thrill issues," he said, sounding distracted. "I mean… I'm his fucking cousin!" the last was said as an admonishment to himself, followed by a lot of muttered self-flagellation. I left him to it and went upstairs to retrieve the bag in question.

When we were doing our job in Florida, as part of a way to try to sort out a purse counterfeiting ring, Ranger bought a gorgeous magenta fur bag, that was supposed to be a knock-off, but wasn't. He said I could do with it what I wanted, and since Lester was right, it totally wasn't my style, the furry Fendi was going to Lula. I found it in the closet, in a dust bag, and I went in search of Ella. She had gift wrap and warm cookies, that she made me eat while she wrapped Lula's gift.

When she was finished, I picked up the box and went down to my car. After making a donut stop and gathering a tray of coffee, I cruised to the Bonds Office. Lula wasn't in and Connie was painting her nails. "What's with the gift?" she asked.

"Tank advised me this morning that it might be in my best interest to suck up to Lula. Apparently, she's still sorta pissed and she did a number on my apartment. He's either fucking with me, or I need to be scared. Thought I'd err on the side of caution."

"Good call," Connie said, "Where's my suck up present?"

I handed her the coffee and a Boston Cream. Connie was a cheap date. "Hey look," she said, as she traded me coffee for a couple of files, "Actual honest to goodness skips. Chump change really, but every penny counts."

"You're sure about these ones?"

"I double checked with the Public Defenders on each case, and the court records. Honest to goodness really real skips," she said.

I took them over to the sofa and flopped down, the action caused me to squeeze my donut and I squirted half of the Jelly filling all down my shirt. I really should have stayed in bed. I scraped the bulk of it off with my finger and went to the bathroom to wash the rest off. When I came out, my left boob was soaked, and I looked like I was lactating. "I should have stayed in bed…" I muttered.

"Hey, with Ranger as your husband, I'm surprised you ever leave it," Connie said.

"He likes his job; it's a pain in the ass," I said. After sitting down with more attention to gravity than before, and without holding a donut, I opened the first file.

Kelly Lee busted for shoplifting a back pack's worth of textbooks from her college bookstore. I didn't really blame her; the books were fucking expensive on a student's salary. She would have gotten away with just a warning from the store manager, except she lost it. She was in the middle of midterms, had projects due and someone had taken her books. She went into full meltdown mode, and threw her coffee, at the manager and made a run for it. She bit the campus cops that picked her up and went catatonic in the back of the squad car.

She was bailed out by her parents and she was told she needed to attend a court ordered stress management program. She'd failed to turn up for the course, and the court date that followed. She was worth about $100 to me.

File number two belonged to a kid named Timothy Percy, and Timmy looked like he was twelve, even though his file said he was twice that age. He got busted for peeping under the change room doors at the War-Mart he worked at. He wasn't let go because they were going with the innocent until proven guilty thing before they fired him, and I was willing to bet, I'd find him at work.

I shoved the files into my bag, they were chump change, but someone had to do the work. I heard Lula's firebird pull into the lot and she came in, looking a little green around the gills.

"Uh Oh, what's wrong with you?" Connie asked.

"Nothin'," She said, "One minute I felt good, next… not so much. I mean it was all fine until I drove passed Cluck in a Bucket, and…" She sniffed the air, gagged and bolted for the bathroom. I looked at Connie who shrugged.

Lula came back out a few minutes later, looking a little gray, but she was rebounding. "Was it the coffee?" I asked. Holding my coffee away from her?

"No, Connie's funky smelling nail polish. What are they putting in that shit? It smells like that time we found that body in the garage."

I put the back of my hand on Lula's forehead, she didn't have a fever. Connie put her nail polish in a drawer and surreptitiously sniffed her nails. It smelled like nail polish to me, and it was sad but I was going to need Lula to elaborate on which time we found the dead body.

"I was going to go talk to a bunch of aging male strippers today and then I was going to go shopping. Wanna come?" I asked. Lula gave me a thumbs up, burped and with a little help, heaved herself off of the sofa. "Maybe I should take you home?"

"Nope, I ain't sick; everything just smells funky today and I think I ate some bad eggs," she said.

"Maybe we should take my car; that way we don't have to worry about the upholstery."

We got out of the office and I loaded Lula into the Range Rover and remembered her gift in the office. I ran back for it, and handed it to her, as I got into the car. While I was looking up the address for the strip club, Lula read her suck up card. It was your generic thank you card, with a sappy poem about being a good friend. I looked up when Lula started sniffing and it looked like she was trying not to cry. "Uhh… Are you okay?"

"It's just allergies," she snapped, and then opened the box, and burst into full on wailing sobs.

"Yeah, I think I'm taking you to the doctor before we go to the strippers," I said.

"No, I just feel bad because of all the shit I did to your place. I mean I know Tankie cleared it all out and stuff, but you're my best friend and girlfriends don't get pissed because they girlfriend is happy!" she sobbed, "And now you're givin' me this knock off that so good it looks real and…"

"It's not a knock-off," I said, "Ranger bought it while we were on the case because we were following a lead. He said when the case was over I could keep it, sell it, or give it to you."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because she started sobbing harder, hugging the pink fur. Ooookay. "Are you sure you're okay?" I asked again.

She nodded vigorously and I put the Range Rover in gear and pulled out of the lot, while she tried to pull herself together. By the time we got to Elizabeth and the Bingo Hall/ Temporary traveling strip club, she was head tipped back and snoring so loud I worried the vibrations were going to fuck with my car's suspension.

"Yo," I said, giving her a nudge, "Wake up!"

She snorted and opened her eyes startled, and it was like a Lula reboot. She was 100% back to herself. "You think they got lunch here? I could use some nachos after this morning."

I shook my head in disbelief and waited while she swapped the contents of her bedazzled leatherette bag into the pink/purple Fendi. "Can we go inside now?"

"Yeah," she said, "You know this is a good idea. They are older right? I mean how much interest do you think those little old ladies have in watching them wave their things around? I mean when they get bored with it, they can just play BINGO."

"I'm pretty sure BINGO is off while the show it here. Probably they have a stage set up and stuff. And how would you hear the caller over the music?"

"That's true I guess," she said.

We went to the door and knocked since it was locked up tight. It was answered by a man in a blue metallic speedo, and a Police officer's hat.

"We're in rehearsal just now; come back at one and we'll have the early bird show," he said genially. Lula was staring. The man was about fifty, probably in just as good a shape as Ranger, but he was small, maybe five six. But everything was perfectly proportioned except for what was in the Speedo. Let's just say this man was in the right line of work.

"We're not here for the show," I said, "Um Edna is my grandmother."

The guy's face lit up, "Oh Edna's great! We miss her on the bus. She makes the best meatloaf."

"Uh yeah, it's pretty good," I said, "We're here to talk about Merlin?"

He waved us in. Lula walked in the door and he gave her an appreciative once over. He nodded his head in appreciation, his expression clearly saying "not bad."

She was wearing a pair of acid wash skinny jeans embellished with a flaming skull done in iridescent rhinestones on the ass. She'd paired it with a matching jacket and black patent ankle boots. She missed seeing the look, and I didn't really get one at all.

Inside the BINGO Hall, the tables had been arranged around a large revolving center stage, that was currently on the fritz. One of the dancers was on the stage, shirtless and straddling a chair backwards as he handed tools to whoever belonged to the pair of legs sticking out from underneath said stage.

"Merlin was the only one who could get that fucking thing to work every time," our host said, "Lemme take you to Herb."

"Herb?"

"The boss, now that Merlin is gone," he said, "My name is Benny, by the way, my stage name is Python."

"I sorta guessed that actually," I said. "We have a person in common. Though 'person' might be a generous way of putting it."

"Ouch," he said, "Who is it?"

"Joyce…" He rolled his eyes before I even got to her last name.

"Oh, yes,Joyce,"he said, "Every damn time we're in town I see Joyce, and every damn time it's the same thing. She's hoping this thing is going to come out of hibernation, but it's not. Not for her at least. I take shit for my blood pressure which means no little blue pill. I gotta really really want it, to get excited if you know what I mean. I've had to accept that, and it's good for this because then I can't get accused of anything by accidentally getting hard when I dance, you know?"

"I'm surprised you'd be so… forthcoming about this," I said.

"Honey, I've been a stripper since I was eighteen; I ain't got a lot of shyness left in this body," he said. Lula's attention was drawn to a buffet table and he said, "Go for it Gorgeous; get the good shit before rehearsal's done and the hordes hit the table."

Lula didn't need to be told twice; she hauled ass to the table and started loading her plate up with potato salad and some form of sandwich. "Your friend, is she seeing anyone?"

"Sort of," I said, "She's got this on again off again thing with a guy we work with. His name's Tank, but I don't think they're exclusive. Though you did just admit to ED in front of her, so I don't know how well that's going to work in your favor. Her name is Lula if you want to take a shot anyway."

He shrugged and eyed her again. "I might; you never know."

Fair enough. I followed him to an office and the mega hot front man from Merlin's file looked up. So in my life, I meet a lot of people and most people seem to suit their name. Herb's parents were probably smoking some herb when they named him because in no way did that name suit him. He needed to have a name like Striker or Bryce or something else you'd find in the pages of a steamy romance novel.

Herb had piercing pale blue eyes that stood out from like ten miles away. He had a few lines around his eyes, but that was pretty much the only indicator that he might be over thirty-five. And not to put too fine a point on it, he looked like Ian Somerhalder's hotter older brother. He was bent over a laptop and he looked harassed.

"Hey Herb, this is Edna's granddaughter…"

"Stephanie Manoso," I supplied my name, "If this is a bad time…"

"No," he said, "It's not."

He came around the desk and shook my hand. It was a good thing I had Morelli and Ranger in my life, so I had developed a tolerance for drop dead sexy, and didn't make an idiot of myself when he spoke to me. "It's nice to meet you, Stephanie."

"I wish it had been under better circumstances."

"You're telling me," he said, "It's bad enough that the man was my best friend, but now I have to deal with all the back of house shit, and I have no damned idea how this accounting software works. And there are these password protected files, that I know have to do with payroll, but fucked if I know the passwords."

"Maybe I could help you with that; I know a guy who can get around pretty much any computer password."

"Fucking go for it," he said. He shut the computer and handed it to me. It was a very modern looking, super skinny Toshiba, that weighed next to nothing. I shoved it in my bag and took the seat he was offering. "She told us about you; I take it you're helping with the investigation?"

"Well, when your grandmother gets accused of killing someone, you kind of feel compelled to take some kind of action."

"I told them when they said they arrested her, that they were fucking idiots. Edna couldn't lift her damn gun, let alone actually shoot it."

"I know that, but the bullets matched and she had it on her when they picked her up."

"There is a mistake there, there has to be," he said.

"Well yeah," I said, "Which is why they let her go. Listen, we've gone through everything and we can't find anything, any reason why Merlin would be someone's target, but we have it on good authority that this wasn't random."

"I've known the man for twenty-five years and I can tell you, he's an absolute Boy Scout. Sure he smoked a bit of dope every now and then, but who doesn't?"

"Unless he had a scary dealer he pissed off, I'm not thinking a little pot is what this about."

"I have been driving myself crazy about this because I've been wondering the same thing. He was a simple guy and he really didn't care what you looked like, so long as you were cool. I totally get why he dug Edna. She is so full of energy and life, and willing to try anything really. So when they got a little drunk and got married, I wasn't surprised that he decided to stick to it. The only thing weird about that is that he was drinking all that much. He doesn't usually drink, as a rule. He says the occasional joint helped him focus, but alcohol has absolutely no benefits that he could think of."

"So he never drank too much?"

"In the time I've known him, I've seen him drunk maybe three times. The night he married Edna, just after his dad died, and at my bachelor party twenty-three years ago. Otherwise, I don't think he has more than the very occasional beer."

He parked his ass on the edge of the desk and looked down at me.

"I'm surprised they didn't take this computer as evidence," I said.

"Art seemed like an idiot, but he was far from it. I know what you're about to think; maybe all we saw was what he wanted us to see and that maybe he led a double life, but I just don't see when he would have the time. We shared a tour bus twelve months of a year. If he wasn't on stage he was in the office booking shows, and when we were in Vegas, gambling with his tips. He never played back room games, and was friendly with a lot of the dealers at the Casinos."

"There has to be something; something strange, that's happened in the last little while. Grandma said he was interested in DNA specifically paternity tests. He said a friend had a girl in jail, who was pregnant…"

"Not that I know of," he said, "Maybe one of the guys ran into trouble with some chick. If that was the case, they would be more likely to come to me with it. I was sort of in charge of the dancers. I mean we all hung out, obviously, but Merlin was guest relations and the business, I was stage manager and dancers."

"So was grandma an anomaly? Did he pick up often?"

"We all do," he said, "I mean Python doesn't but that doesn't mean the ladies don't try. You get a bunch of women just drunk enough that they get brave, and you go out to the bar after the show. You've got your classic target rich environment. Art was what you'd call non-discriminatory. He'd take home anyone who made him laugh or anyone he thought needed cheering up. He had regulars too. Before he met Edna, there was this one girl who came to our shows here in Jersey, Becky something. Cute little thing, probably about your age. He was talking about making it serious with her, and then something happened (I think he found out she was married or something) and he broke it off."

"How long before he met Grandma was that?" I asked.

"About a month I guess," he said.

"Could you describe her?"

"Honey, I see thousands of women a week. I can tell you she had dark hair and your build, maybe brown eyes, and that's pretty much the extent of it. I'd recognize her if she walked in the room, but it would take me a minute."

"You know what?" I said, "This pisses me off."

"Yeah, he was a really decent guy," Herb said. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Yeah, the night of the murder, maybe the night before, there were a lot of straight men in the audience."

"Yeah," he said, "That happens, like I said, you got a target rich environment, and our numbers are limited."

"Did you see anyone strange?"

"Nope," he said.

"What about a guy at a table next to this girl Joyce. Redhead, slutty, after python."

"Oh I know Joyce," he said rolling his eyes, "We usually have to bounce her once she's into her third or fourth glass of wine, and she gets belligerent."

"You should know, she doesn't need wine; she's like that sober," I said, "You wouldn't happen to have I dunno, security footage of that night?"

"You know what? Get out that computer."

I pulled out the laptop and he logged onto Twitter. He scrolled back to that night and started scrolling through selfies that the dancer's had been tagged in. "There," I said. I spotted Joyce, dressed in leopard print spandex that Lula would cringe at, and at the table next to them was a man in a ball cap, caucasian, but who knew how old. Sitting at the table with him was Marty Sabatino, an enforcer for the Gruzzi crime family.

We went through the other pictures and video and there were a lot of shots of the table, and even the box Joyce talked about, but in none of them could you make out the other man's face.

"I'm going to get our tech guy to look at this, maybe he can find something," I said.

He nodded, "Just get me into those programs and I'll be happy. You can do whatever else you want to the computer."

I put the computer back in my bag and went out to collect Lula, to see how she was doing with questioning the dancers. It occurred to me that I never asked her to question them, but she probably figured that out right?

Lula was standing hands on hips, waving her finger in Python's face.

"I'm telling you, I used to be a ho, and you gotta stop seeing yourself as an object if you ever wanna make something of yourself. Look at you, letting women paw at you all the damn time! Ever think that the reason your snake is broken has nothin' to do with your old ass, and everything to do with your self-esteem? You a good lookin' man, you got a name, family probably, and you ain't just a big dick to be stared at!"

Python looked stunned, "You gotta have some self-respect. And you gotta stop walking around looking' like a stripper! If you don't, ain't nobody gonna treat you like you ain't a damn stripper. Dress for the job you want!"

Herb looked at me out of the corner of his eye, "Python wants to be a stripper. He fucking loves his job. His dick doesn't work because it's a side effect of one of his blood pressure meds."

"Yeah, she's in a weird mood today," I said. "Hey Lula! Let's ride!"

"Yeah I'm done here. All this place is, is a sad place filled with sad men. It's probably better when it's got Bingo."

I mouthed an I'm sorry to the crowd. We were just about out of the hall when someone walked in with a bucket of fried chicken. Lula turned instantly green, and threw up on the man's shoes. "Oh shit, sorry," she said. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and the guy only just managed to catch her, before she was lights out.

An hour later I was sitting in the emergency room, while Lula had a shit load of blood work done. They were thinking virus, as she had a low-grade fever. She'd come around pretty quickly after she fainted, so Herb loaded her into the tour bus, with some water, and tucked her into one of the beds and drove her to the hospital. I followed them in the Range Rover. There was still no word from the doctors about her blood work and the ER was slammed, so I sat, messing around on my phone, waiting to know what was going on.

Just when I was pretty sure I'd exhausted everything ever put on Facebook ever, and was too pissed off with half the games on my phone to play anymore, my cell rang. I could barely hear a damn thing in the crowded emergency room, so I went outside to answer it.

The reception was really bad, and I looked at the number on the call display. I hung up and was about to call back when I was bumped by the door opened by a tired looking doctor. He muttered an apology and walked over to a picnic table where he lit a cigarette and pulled out his own phone to stare blankly at.

I went into my call log and hit the last call number, and nearly jumped out of my skin, when the phone the doctor was holding began to ring. He looked at me with a small smile and waved me over.

Cautiously I walked to the table and sat down.

"You ever wonder, why Ranger owed Connie a favor" His voice was barely above a whisper, it was gravelly, and he looked to be in his late sixties.

"I never asked," I said, "How do you know that Ranger and I met because of a favor?"

"Like I said on the phone, a friend asked me to keep an eye on you," he said. My heart suddenly went into overdrive and I wanted to bolt. Or call Ranger or something. I grabbed my phone and he smiled sadly, "Don't bother," he said, "This app here, blocks cell transmissions."

"What do you want?" I asked. A cell phone was not the only way I could get Ranger's attention. I was hoping that it worked on something different than a cell signal. Ranger gave me a watch on our last mission, that was basically a James Bond distress signal. All I had to do to activate it was press a couple of buttons or what the thing on something. He said it worked on Satellite so maybe it wouldn't have the same signal problem as a cell phone. It was worth a shot, so I slowly put my phone back in my handbag and when I brought my hand back up, I whacked the watch against the table.

I got the same electric type shot of pain up the arm that I got the first time I activated the watch the first time, as the back of the watch face whacked off of my wrist bone. "Son of a bitch!" I said and shook my arm.

It worked though, the telltale double tap that it was active, went off against my wrist. "You gotta be more careful kid. You always were a hazard to yourself."

"What is your connection to my family?"

"It's not important right now," he said, "What's important is this, I did a little digging into Wylitt. It seems he might have been offed for talking to an undercover Fed. I thought it was revenge shit, because to be honest, that's what it looked like. He contacted the FBI about three months back, said he had some information about WB. Said he knows his identity and said he had proof.

"Okay," I said, "How did you get this?"

"Not important, and I have no idea who WB is. Wylitt said he'd only give the information in person. He wanted to make sure it was going into the right hands. The night he sent Edna to the chemist, he was supposed to do the drop, but he never made it."

"So he was getting her out of the way," I said.

"Of course he was getting her out of the way; she's 84 years old, and she was married. Why the hell would she need condoms?"

"I…" I didn't really want to think about it. "Maybe she didn't want to get a disease."

"Wylitt screened as often as a porn star; he was clean and so is she."

"So somehow Vinnie pissed of WB, and out of some pure coincidence, Grandma hooks up with a guy who WB wants to whack? So to get back at Vinnie, he goes after my grandmother?" I said, "That doesn't make sense."

"Wylitt wasn't a distraction from Vinnie, Edna was," he said.

"But why not just leave her out of it? Ranger and I were happy-ish in Florida. Wouldn't it have been better to leave us there?"

"Like I said, when WB is pissed off, he makes dumb-assed mistakes."

I let out a sigh, "I'm assuming you have a contact with the Feds and TPD and that's how you know this, and how you knew how quickly Ranger picked up the whole Chimera vibe. Did your Federal contact happen to see Joe's video?"

"Yeah," Chimera said. He slid a memory stick across the table to me, "Couple of former shot collars of a couple of now defunct families were having dinner. In the same restaurant as Morelli. Word is these two arseholes work for WB, and actually know him. The Feds don't want anyone to know they're onto a few of the members of WB's inner circle."

"And they are related to Vinnie how?" I asked.

"Fucked if I know cookie," he said. "You've spoken to the Sparrow, you've got his leads. Trace them, look at this video and do what you do best. You're the fucking investigator. I just kill people for money."

"And you won't tell us about the guns?"

"Nope," he said, "I wasn't responsible for these last murders, but I don't need the cops knowing my MO."

I considered the man in front of me. His hair had probably been at one point, blonde, and some of it was still visible with the gray. His eyes were the color of steel, and he had the same firm line to his mouth that Ranger had. He had a strong jaw and the permanently tanned skin of a man who spent a lot of time outside. About the only thing that gave away that he was older than he looked, were his hands which had some age spots. They were the hard looking hands of someone who worked with them, often, and his left hand looked arthritic.

"You don't look like you're in your 80s," I said.

"I'm Australian," he said.

"Like that has anything to do with it," I said.

"I come from a country filled with snakes, spiders, plants and all kinds of other crap that wants to kill us. I figure it makes us a bit more rugged."

I hadn't thought of that. I was working on my snappy retort when two things happened. A car door slammed, and the hospital door flew open.

"Balthazar Williams, you get the hell away from my granddaughter!" My grandmother yelled. At the exact same time, Lula bellowed.

"You can keep your broke assed equipment away from me! I ain't doin' that stupid ass test!" she stomped off towards my Range Rover as grandma made a bee-line for Chimera who looked like he'd just been shot.

I was torn between seeing what was up with Lula, and finding out how my grandmother knew Chimera. Another car door closed and Ranger got out of the Cayenne.

He didn't have his weapon drawn, but he did look pissed. I went to him to see what the hell was going on.

"You brought grandma as backup?" I said out of the side of my mouth while keeping my eyes on the train wreck that was my grandmother shouting at the world famous assassin.

"Didn't want a potential gun fight in a hospital parking lot."

"Hey, if you're going to get shot, it's not a bad place to have it happen," I said, "But that doesn't answer why grandma?"

She was really laying into Chimera, "Sixty damn years! Sixty! You left me in a darned hotel lobby like an idiot, and you think you have the right to be anywhere near my granddaughter? Ranger says you've been looking out for us? You lost that right sixty darned years ago when you…"

"You made your choice Edna," he said, "You wanted a family and I couldn't give you that."

"You never even asked me what I wanted!"

"I didn't need to," he said, "You were better off with Harry, and you were happy."

"That's a damn lie!" she said, "You didn't think I was better off with Harry. I told you I loved you and you ran away! Harry didn't. I told him the truth about you and me, and me and him, just like I did you, and he fought for me. You ran away!"

"Whoa," I said. I turned to Ranger.

"Grandpa was her Morelli," I said, Ranger nodded, "And he's, her you?"

"Big difference between us Babe," he said, "I pulled away occasionally, but I never left you unless it was for work, and I always came back."

Watching grandma and Chimera fight was mesmerizing. Actually to say Williams was involved in the argument might have been an overstatement. Grandma sort of just fought at him, while he remained stoic.

"Is this why we went to dinner last night? So you could check?"

"No," he said, "The only thing that would pull me out of retirement if I managed to stay hidden for so long, would be if you were in trouble. He did the same for the woman he loves. He's watching over you, as a favor to someone; the only way I would do a favor for someone over that length of time is if you asked me to. Since he said she didn't know he was watching, I guessed Edna."

Lula laid on the horn in the car, a mark of how pissed off she was that she didn't want to know why Grandma was yelling at an old man. Or what the hell Grandma was doing riding with Ranger in the first place.

"I'm really torn right now," I said. "Lula is pissed about something, but this…"

Ranger opened the driver's side door and flicked a button, "Dash Cam," he said.

"You see," I said, "Every day you do something that makes me love you more."

He grinned and kissed me goodbye, while he stayed to watch how the Days of our Geriatric Lives, played out. The dash cam would be great later, because I could have popcorn while I watched. I went to the driver's side of my car and opened the door, my eyes still on grandma and Chimera. From where I was, I saw him heave a sigh and then he took two steps and kissed grandma, hard. When he pulled back, grandma was silent.

"That always was the best way to shut you up," he said.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Happy New Year! I hope you've all had a great holiday! Well I'm back, after a week spent at the place that inspired Reef Knot (Though it's missing the insane criminal element, and is full of some frankly wonderful people) I have a bit of a tan and my husband decided after reading Tink that I needed a necklace like the one Ranger gives Steph at the beginning of that story. So needless to say I have been inspired to write. In this chapter and a little in the next there is the introduction of Lester's sister... sort of. I'm working on a small (for now) spin off story about her and a character who needs a little love... Anyways thanks for the reviews and I hope you like this next installment!**

Lula refused to say anything as we drove back towards Trenton. When she did speak, it wasn't to me, she was muttering under her breath. When we got back to the Office, she got out of the Range Rover and went back to her Firebird. She peeled out of the lot, leaving a shit load of rubber as she shot away.

I went back into the office and looked at Connie.

"What's with her?" Connie asked.

"I have a weird theory," I said.

"What's that?"

"I think Lula might be pregnant," I said. I filled her in on Lula's freak out at the hospital, and her weird behavior.

"Scary," Connie said. "But it does make sense. The super sense of smell, the weird attitude, her sudden dislike of fried chicken."

I made a vow to call my gynaecologist later to make sure things were bulletproof down there; I'd hate to suddenly hate fried chicken or worse, what if I suddenly stopped liking mom's desserts? Connie was clearly thinking along the same lines, because we both shuddered.

I decided that since I had the time, I might as well go after Peeping Tim. I called his work, lied about being his sister, and confirmed that he was working. I left Connie, and drove to the Wal-Mart.

I said a silent prayer that this would go more smoothly than my last real bust, and went to hunt down Timmy at his new position in the Automotive department. I had to pass cosmetics on the way there, and noticed an unusual crowd in front of the Revlon display. The reason for the congregation in the makeup department became apparent when I saw a poison green wig on the head of Sally Sweet. He was filming something, and he had an enormous audience, who were all holding poison green and silver compact mirrors, that looked like psychedelic versions of those red and white mints you see at Christmas time. A bunch of them had Sally's enormous, and loopy signature scrawled in Sharpie on them. He caught my eye over the crowd and his hot pink lips broke into a smile

"Yo! Hey Steph!" He called, I waved, and I was dragged into the video by his director. "Hey everyone, this is my friend Steph."

I waved at the camera, "Hi."

I felt decidedly under-dressed next to Sally, who was wearing a white Chanel Suit, and a pair of sparkly spiked Christian Louboutin heels in size holy-crap-I-didn't-know-they-made-ladies'-shoes-that-big.

"So I'm here, like buying makeup for a segment on non luxury brands. Like I'm testing who is good and who isn't and like all week I'm going to be testing different products and wearing them for the day."

"Cool," I said.

"I do this thing, where I like grab random women and give them a makeover at the cosmetics counter. So today you get to be her."

"Uhhh Sally," I said, "I'm not…"

"Yo, you're gonna love it," he said, "Consider it payment for using my bus."

I sighed, and took a seat on a director's chair that appeared out of nowhere. "Okay, this is gonna be totally fucking amazing," Sally said.

An hour later, there was an even bigger crowd watching Sally finish my makeup, and I was holding a makeup bag with the same candy swirl on it that the compacts had, and it was filled with his soon to be released new line of makeup.

I had no idea what he was doing to me, because he wouldn't let me see the colors he was putting on me. He was saying the names but the monikers, "You're a princess" and "Honey do list" really didn't offer much help. He was brushing highlighter on my cheeks and nose, as a finishing touch, when I saw Timmy walk by looking like he was about to go home. I jumped up, and said, "Sorry can you hold on for like five seconds?"

Sally blasted my face with some kind of spray, commented on how dewy I looked, and I took off after Timmy. I tried to keep things casual, but it was hard when people were pointing at me and I started getting concerned. I passed by the jewelry counter and looked at my reflection in the mirror.

My skin looked fake, almost plastic, the shimmering highlighter made my cheekbones sharper, and my lips were fuller. But it was my eyes that were shocking. Starting from the inner corners working out to the outer corner of my eye, in a funky kind of fade, the upper lid, went from turquoise, fading into a light blue, then dark blue, then purple then hot pink. Instead of eyeliner, he'd used the shadow to do the reverse on the lower lash line. The waterline was black, and there was a slight winged liner done in a rich blue. The mascara was very black, and my eyes looked enormous. It was a good look, but it was more runway than Wal-Mart and it certainly wasn't good for being covert. Especially as he'd given me a metallic royal purple lip. If I was going to rock this look, I needed a different job and a change of outfit.

I gave up with the covert and kept following Timmy. It took him ten more steps to realize I was following him and he turned, with a helpful smile. "Hi, I'm off duty now, but if it's just a quick question, I can help you. Otherwise I'll have the right person paged to help you."

That was actually pretty damn decent of him. It was hard to find helpful sales people nowadays. I mean usually you got someone with a sort of vacant expression who looked at you like asking where the socks were was like asking them to prove relativity. Either that or they looked at you like you were committing some kind of mortal sin and that doing their job was going to be the biggest inconvenience of their lives. Here he was, off duty and helpful. No wonder they didn't want to fire him; he was probably really good at his job.

"Actually," I said, "I don't want to make a fuss or anything, because I don't want you to get in trouble with your boss, but my name is Stephanie Plum, and I represent your bail bondsman. I'm afraid you missed your court date so now I have to take you in to get you re-bonded. If you come with me now, I can see to it that you're taken care of today and I'll bring you back to your car right after."

"I missed my court date because my boss accidentally scheduled me for that day and I couldn't get anyone to switch shifts with me," he said.

"That sucks," I said, "I really admire your dedication and your work ethic. Unfortunately, there's a bench warrant out against you, and it's my job to bring you in."

His eyes seemed to take in my makeup for the first time now, and his own eyes narrowed. "You don't look like a Bounty Hunter," he said.

"I get that all the time," I said. His eyes flickered to the exit, and his body tensed. Any second he was going to bolt.

"Look," he said, "I didn't do what those women said. I was playing a stupid game with a friend who works in a different department. We had to take selfies in weird places, wearing this dumb hat. Only when I went back to take a picture of myself, using my Selfie stick, I tripped and when that lady opened the door, it looked like I was trying to slide my camera under a stall door, and she thought I was taking video of people when they changed."

"That's really not my area," I said,"I just have to get you rescheduled."

"I want to see some ID," he said, "How do I know you're really who you say you are?"

I flashed him my semi legit, cost me fifteen bucks on the internet, badge and he very calmly, removed his Wal-Mart Smock and draped it over the nearest clothing rack. For a brief moment I thought, maybe he was going to come easily; then, he just as calmly, took off diagonally through menswear, knocking racks over as he went, with me in reluctant, hottish pursuit. Was one hundred dollars really worth getting winded over? I mean I'd had a trying day. How dedicated was I to this job anyway? I mean I certainly didn't have the work ethic this kid did. Besides, I could be doing PI stuff for Ranger instead of chasing after Vinnie's stupid FTAs.

I was actually gaining on Timmy, wondering how bad a runner he had to be, that my half assed jog was faster than he was, when I slipped on a wet patch of floor, and went sprawling towards him. He jumped but by some minor miracle I snagged his shoe lace when I made a grab for his legs, and I yanked. He slipped and went on his own unscheduled flight. He made a dive for a display of granola bars, as I scrambled to get up so I could get some cuffs on him. There was an avalanche of lunchbox shrapnel as the Granola bars were sent flying into a display of fruit snacks, causing them all to topple, and land on top of Timmy. I think he whacked his head on the way down, because by the time the dust settled, he looked like he'd been a victim of some horrible elementary school lunchroom nightmare.

His manager appeared on the scene, and he looked down at Timmy, with a sigh. "I suppose I should fire him now," he said, "But he really is my best employee. I mean he actually studies so he can be helpful in his department."

"Hey," I said, "I'm willing to forget this all happened if you are. I just need to bring him in to get him re-bonded."

Timmy started to come around, and he looked at his mess and then his boss with dismay, "I'm sorry Sir," he said, "I'll stay late and clean it up."

"See?" The manager said, looking at me, "My best employee; he actually cares."

"I hear ya," I said, "But I do need to get him booked again."

"Is it going to cost me anything? I mean I paid his bond," The Manager asked.

"Probably not," I said, "I mean people miss their court dates all the time; all you have to do is reschedule." I'm pretty sure that's all you had to do. I never really paid much attention to the re-bonding process. I just brought them in and waited for my paycheck.

The manager helped me haul Timmy out of the pile of boxes, and I pulled out my cuffs. The Manager and Timmy, both then shoved me hard, so I fell into the giant mess. As I went down, I kicked out, accidentally nailing Timmy hard in the junk. Timmy wasn't having a great day. It halted any getaway he had planned, only there wasn't much I could do about it, because I was having a hard time getting enough purchase in the pile of boxes to actually get up. I was acutely aware of the fact that there were several iPhones on us, and in about ten minutes I'd be all over YouTube. Seriously, how much did I want this job exactly? I'm pretty sure if I worked for Ranger, I still wouldn't have to wear pantyhose, and he'd only really be my boss on paper.

I managed to roll over, and then get to my feet. I grabbed a groaning Timmy by the scruff of his neck under the horrified supervision of the manager. I slapped the cuffs on him, and made him sit down on the edge of a nearby freezer, and then I took the shoe I'd accidentally untied, off of him. I took the laces out, tied it around his ankle and put his shoe back on him. I held onto the other end of the lace, this way if he tried to run again, I had a leash and could trip him. I prodded him again and made him walk, his steps awkward by his now floppy shoe, and the fact that the shoelace was too short to give him much range of motion.

I got him out to the car and into the backseat, child locks secured on the doors, and got into the front of the car. I adjusted the rear view mirror to see how I looked, and texted Sally to let him know his makeup job held up. "You look like what people in the 80's thought the future looked like," Timmy said sullenly.

"My hair's not big enough," I said and started the car.

After booking Timmy, I called Lula, to see how she was doing, and got her voicemail. So I sent her a concerned text. I hit a McDonald's drive thru for a late lunch and decided to turn my paperwork over to Connie in the morning.

While I sat in my car, munching on my double cheeseburger and fries, I used my phone to run a google search on the name Balthazar Williams. I got a hit from the local library, saying they had some News Paper articles pertaining to him, and there were a list of headlines. After clicking the first few, I quickly realized they were all only available on microfiche. I finished my burger, put my car back into gear and drove to the library, while sucking back my well earned chocolate shake and picking at my French Fries.

Before I went inside I called Minnie and had him run a more invasive search on Balthazar Williams. I was betting we wouldn't get much. If Williams was anything like Ranger, everything would be classified or redacted, but it didn't hurt to look. I went into the library, and rather than spend a thousand years trying to figure out how to use the machines, I made straight for the front desk and the Librarian. The woman at the desk was in her early twenties, and wearing a light pink cardigan, over a yellow dress that was covered in little white daisies. She had blonde hair that transitioned into light pink, and she had daisies hanging from her ears. Her name tag said Gladys. I mean she didn't look like a librarian, but she certainly had the name of one.

Gladys told me that I needed a library card, which meant filling out a half page form and waiting for her little machine to spit out a new card. After she did a computer search to get the call numbers she needed, she led me into a little room with a machine that looked like it was new in 1965. She found what I needed and after showing me how to work the machine, she left me to myself, and I started reading.

Balthazar Williams used to be a Private Investigator in Trenton during the 1940's and 1950's. He was pretty good at it too from the looks of it, and involved in several high profile cases. Then in 1957, he was implicated in the death of a corrupt local judge, and he fled. Nobody had heard from him since. About a year after he disappeared, his name popped up again, in a wedding announcement. Not just any announcement either, my grandmother's wedding announcement. It was really long, and I couldn't think why Grandma would have garnered so much attention.

 _Miss Edna Kappel, and Harold Mazur were married yesterday at St. Hedwig's Church._ There was a bunch of stuff about the actual wedding and then towards the bottom, there was a bit about grandma. _The new Mrs. Mazur, is well known as the former secretary to disgraced Private Investigator, Balthazar Williams. While Williams has fled into ignominy, it was not without ensuring that the police were well aware of Mrs. Mazur's innocence in the crimes for which he has been accused._

 _Mrs. Mazur was known for aiding Mr. Williams in his investigations, and without the evidence he provided before his disappearance, may have been under considerable police scrutiny herself, as she was no favorite of the murder victim, and they had been seen arguing publicly the day of his death._

 _While information has since come to light that Judge Busch, was far from innocent himself, the fact remains that she is the last person to have seen him alive. Sources within the police station say there is the strong belief that she is withholding information in order to protect her former employer._

I printed off the article to show Ranger when I got home. It bothered me. Not that grandma was a secretary to a famous Private Investigator, and she had this life before she married grandpa that we never knew about, but because Chimera was supposed to be better than Ranger.

Ranger has far more forensic countermeasures to worry about nowadays and Trenton in the fifties wasn't exactly known for it's lack of corruption. Surely if Chimera's as good as they say, he would never have been caught, and if he did have a lapse in judgement, he could have done someone a favor somewhere that would have ensured that had he made a mistake, it would be overlooked.

What was more, I had serious questions as to why a hit man of the supposed caliber and fame of Chimera would be working as a Private Investigator. Ranger did what he did mostly because he was trying to work his slate clean, so it made sense that he'd go into business protecting people and helping the police clean up the streets. Chimera was willing to kill innocent women because their boyfriends paid him to. All he cared about was getting paid. He wasn't the helping people type, and a lot of the cases Williams was known for, were probono cases. I needed to know more about him, so I called my mom to see if grandma was home, and when I found out she was, I planned to head over to talk to grandma about her relationship with Balthazar Williams. The printer spat out the last pages of the article, which included a couple of pictures of the wedding, and I shoved them all in my handbag.

When I got out to the car, it was a million degrees inside it, and it smelled like old McDonald's and iffy milkshake, so I started it, turned on the AC, closed the door and walked back towards the library to toss my garbage.

I heard a strangely familiar clicking noise and then the next thing I knew I was looking up as Gladys, the librarian, was holding a compress to my head. In the background I could hear the sound of sirens. "It was my car wasn't it," I said with resignation.

"I don't know if it was your car or not, but someone's car blew up."

"It was my car," I said.

"You don't know; you haven't even looked yet," she said.

"My name is Stephanie Plum; it's always my car."

She helped me sit up, and I looked at the twisted wreckage that was once my vintage, twice restored by Rangeman, Range Rover. "Damn," I said. "I really thought that one was going to make it a full year."

On the bright side, if people were trying to blow me up, I was getting close. To what? I had no idea yet, but I'd figure it out. Then the realization hit that I'd have to go through the hassle of replacing all my ID again, and all my new makeup was in my handbag. I groaned and Gladys got concerned again. "Maybe you should lie back down."

"Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it is to replace your ID? I mean I have a passport, but it's basically going to be a day spent at the DMV and on hold with the bank, and credit card companies."

"Oh your shoulder bag wasn't in the car! I took it off of you when I rolled you over to make sure you were breathing. I saw that you have the new Sally Sweet line; isn't it gorgeous? It's already sold out completely." I took my handbag from her and pulled out the little makeup kit.

"Keep it," I said, "Sally is a friend of mine, I can get more."

"Cool!"

The firetrucks, ambulance, police, and Rangeman arrived, accompanied by a lot more cars than usual. From the number of vehicles in the lot it looked like it was possible the entirety of the US Armed Forces, and possibly even the Ghostbusters had shown up. "Who the hell did you call?" I asked.

"My brother works for Air Force. I was on the phone to him when the car exploded and he said to go make sure nobody was hurt while he contacted the authorities."

"Well, he went a little overboard."

"He can be a little over protective."

"Yeah," I said. Though I guess it sort of explained why she wasn't too freaked out about the explosion.

I saw Ranger's car pull into the lot, and he got out and came to me at a fast walk. This sort of crisis didn't require a run or a jog. I hadn't been missing, or in the company of a psychopath, so it was more or less just another day at the office. The haste in his walk was probably more due to the concern that there was blood, than the twisted burning wrekage, but since I was sitting up and talking, it wasn't enough to be freaked out over. Or at least visually freaked out over. He was probably pissed that someone tried to blow me up again, and the sex tonight would be fantastic because he was letting me know how happy he was that I was alive. For now though, he'd look reassuringly aloof.

He crouched down in front of me, and tipped my head to the side so he could look at the wound, "Glue not stitches," he said, "What hit you?"

"Dunno," I said, "I didn't even hear it blow up. I heard a click and then I was waking up."

He looked at Gladys, "How long was she out?"

"About a minute, maybe two," she said.

"Long enough," he said to me, "You're going to the hospital."

"I don't feel concussed."

"Yeah but you were semi blown up," he said, "Come quietly and I'll buy you a greasy dinner."

"You're on," I said. He hauled me to my feet and he gave me a tight hug. Then with my new friend Gladys in tow, he led me to an ambulance, where Bobby was waiting with a pair of paramedics.

"Brown will ride with you," Ranger said, "I'm going to stick around to handle some things. I'll be there in a bit."

I saluted him, and sat down on the gurney in the back of the ambulance. Gladys gave Bobby a run down of the first aid she did, and then followed a paramedic to a cop so she could give a statement. "The good news is," Bobby said as they closed the doors to the ambulance behind him, "You don't look like you need stitches. I can glue that closed before we get there."

"Yeah," I said, "Lucky me."

"Bad news is your makeup is fucked," he said.

"Do I want to know how bad?" I asked. He scrunched up his face in consideration and shook his head. "I really should have stayed in bed this morning."

"It's not that bad," he said, "I have a clean shirt for you here in my bag, and I can clean off the makeup before you get to the hospital."

"Why do you have a clean shirt for me?" I asked.

"I keep a uniform for you in my medkit now, because sooner or later, you need one. What kind of look were you going for? You look like how people in the '80's thought the future would look."

"I was doing Sally a favour," I said.

He washed my face, cleaned up the gash at my hairline and glued it. When we got to the hospital, my clothes were put in an evidence bag, my hair combed just in case there was anything in it that could be useful evidene, and then I was allowed to wash the blood out of my hair, using one of the hospital showers. I got dressed in the full change of clothes Bobby had in the small duffel he carried as part of his medkit, and I was sent to an exam room to wait for the doctor. I was in and out of the hospital in record time, and happily concussion free. The doc figures I was out for as long as I was, because I was tired.

I was told to go home and rest. Since Ranger hadn't even left the car wreck yet, and Bobby and I were stranded for now, I called my dad and he came to pick us up in his cab. I let Ranger know I was going to my parent's house to hang out for a while. If I went home, Ella would cook and then I'd feel guilty if we went out for food, and I was pretty sure I'd earned my second greasy burger of the day.

I left Bobby drinking coffee with dad and went upstairs to my old room to take a nap. I took my shoulder bag off of my shoulder and put it on the floor beside the bed. I stared at the ceiling for twenty minutes, becoming irritated because sleep was elusive, even though I was fucking tired. I was thinking about too many things. I rolled over again and picked up my bag and found the newspaper article I'd printed about grandma. I read it again, nothing new jumping out at me and then I flipped to the pictures, because I realized, I'd never seen grandma's wedding pictures.

Grandma was dressed in a gorgeous wedding dress, with a full lace skirt over zillions of layers of crinoline. The bodice of her dress was hidden by a cascading arrangement of light colored roses. She was wearing one of those veils that had a beaded cap to hold it on the back of her head, and there was no doubt in my mind that she was very happy. She was beaming up at a dapper picture of my much taller grandfather, who was no slouch in the looks department back in the day. Grandma, hadn't aged well, and she'd always been petite, but in her day, she'd been gorgeous, with blonde hair, that for her wedding was smoothed from her face reminding me of Grace Kelly. I inherited the blue eyes from her, though from what mom has told me, hers were even bluer before she got cataracts, but I couldn't remember them as anything but the faded blue they were now.

In the second picture, grandma was standing with a man who could have only been younger Balthazar Williams. She was slightly behind him, wearing a light colored suit, and a hat that looked like a little black beret that she had pinned on at a jaunty angle. They had been photographed speaking to a police officer. The date of the article was four months before grandma got married.

I sat bolt upright and put the picture next to the wedding picture and stared. Grandma had always been thin, she had the same metabolism that I had inherited with her blue eyes only hers had always been on overdrive. She told me once that my curves had come from my Dad's side because she only ever had boobs when she was pregnant. Yet in her wedding picture, she had a very nice pair, and her face wasn't nearly as angular as it was in the picture with Williams.

Grandma didn't have any wedding pictures, like none. She had a picture of her and my grandpa at the beach together, before they were married, and she had a pictures of them after mom was born, before my Uncle Reggie was born, and lots of pictures after that, but none of the wedding. The picture given to the papers clearly hid most of her torso. Did I just have babies on the brain because of Lula, and Lucile, or was grandma pregnant with Mom when she got married? I looked up at the date of the article again. May 9, 1958 mom was born on September 29th 1958.

How the hell did I never know this? My grandparents never really had large anniversary celebrations, with the exception of their fiftieth, which I was sure they celebrated in 2007, not 2008, because it was the year I started working for the lingerie company. Yet the date of this article clearly indicated that it was their 49th. They'd lied to us about when they got married?

I heard grandma moving around in her bedroom and I got up and went, with the article, to her door and knocked. She opened the door and smiled sheepishly. "I think we need to talk," I said, and handed her the newspaper article. She smiled at her wedding picture.

"I didn't even realize we'd made the paper! We went straight from there to the train station so we could start our honeymoon," she said, "I was always sad we didn't have pictures of that day. We were so happy, and your grandfather was such a hottie."

"You weren't married in 1957," I said. She smiled again and shook her head. We went into the bedroom and she closed the door behind me. She motioned for me to sit on the bed beside her, so I did.

"In those days, so long as you were married, people would talk for a minute if you married in a hurry, but they would forget if you were a good little wife. We didn't hide it in the beginning, but your mother was so prim and proper, when she understood the birds and the bees, we figured that nobody would care or even notice, if we fudged things, because she would have been scandalized if she knew. We saw no harm in it."

"Grandma," I said, "You were still friendly with Mr. Williams about the time mom was conceived…"

"Is he your grandfather?" She asked the question for me, "The answer is, I don't know. Your grandfather Harry and I were sweethearts until he went away to college. We split before he left, because he didn't like that I got a job working for Balthazar. I was with Balthazar for about a year as his secretary, before he kissed me while we were out on a job. We were pretty hot an heavy after that, and I wanted to marry him. He wasn't the marrying kind, and he told me that he was happy with our arrangement as it was."

"Were you exclusive?" I asked.

"We were like you and Ranger were," she said, "nobody said we were, and we didn't ask, but if I ever thought he was with someone else, I was jealous as hell, and whenever I had a date with someone, he'd find a reason for me to work late. Then Harry came back from college after I'd been working for Balthazar for a few years and he started coming around again.

They were oil and water those two. They fought almost every time they were in a room together. You see I know Balthazar loved me a lot and he wasn't happy about the fact the Harry was seducing me, looking for any weakness in my relationship with Balthazar and we started arguing more and more. Then that incident happened with the judge, and everything changed."

"What happened with the judge? The papers didn't say, just that he was murdered."

"I was at the courthouse one day doing some research for Balthazar, (Talking to one of my girlfriends who worked in the typing pool) and as I was leaving, I overheard Judge Busch talking to a man named Rudy Werther. Werther was involved in a messy lawsuit, I can't remember what about, but I learned that he was making weekly payments to Judge Busch to see that things started going his way. So because I was a nosy sort back then, I went and started looking up all kinds of court records, anything where Judge Busch presided. I discovered that the cases almost always went towards the wealthier of the two parties, regardless of evidence. I took this information to Balthazar and he realized I'd stumbled upon something big.

He started working his contacts on Stark and the word was that if you got caught cooking the books, it was worth it to grease the palm of the clerk, to get Judge Busch on your case. He didn't come cheap but he'd come down in your favor and if you had even a weak counter suit, your opponent would be forced to pay out enough to cover the cost of the 'additional court fees'.

Around then I started to get threats and Harry said it might be better if I were to stay in his guest room than to stay with Balthazar, because if I was getting threats Balthazar would be too. A little while after that, I was at the market, and when I got to my car Bosch was waiting for me with a couple of goons. They were telling me to back off, and to call off my boss or they would hurt me. So I told them where to go, and made a big scene, lots of people saw.

I told Balthazar what happened, because I was pretty shaken up after, and he put one of his men on me, as a tail. I guess one of Bosche's goons got too close for comfort and next thing I know the police are banging down Harry's door, and I'm being questioned about Bosche's murder."

"And that's when you had to make your decision, and you chose Balthazar, who killed Bosch, and you were going to run away with him."

"Not exactly, I told him that I was in love with him, and that I was in love with Harry, and I couldn't leave either of them. He said I had to think about what I really wanted. Only earlier in the day I told Harry the same thing, and he said that it wasn't good enough. We had a big fight and I left. I knew where Balthazar was staying, and I went to him. He said I could come with him, and he left me to wait for him, while he got the car. I never saw him again. Then Harry showed up, and he told me that he just wanted to make sure I was okay. I went back to Trenton with him."

"But you wanted to go with Balthazar," I said.

"I don't know what I wanted. I loved your grandfather very much and I never felt like I was settling by being with him and I probably would have chosen him in the end, but I gave Balthazar a lot of my time, and loyalty, and he didn't even have the decency to say goodbye. Then I found out I was pregnant, and I had no idea who the father was. I was honest with your grandfather from the word go, and he didn't miss a beat. We got married and we didn't look back."

"So mom doesn't know?" I asked.

"I'd like to keep it that way," Grandma said. I nodded.

"So when he said he was keeping an eye on us, it wasn't just for you. He thought he might be looking out for his kid, and grandchildren. He felt responsible."

"He gave up that responsibility when he left me standing in a hotel," she said.

"He's a hit man," I said.

"He's not a hit man," Grandma said, "He was hired to try to find this hitman called Chimera, because he knew what Chimera looked like."

"How?"

"They were in the same unit," she said.

"And when Chimera went rogue, they asked him to find him. Did he ever come close?"

"Yes," grandma said, "Chimera was the one who took out Bosche and made it look like Balthazar."

I needed to process this. So Balthazar was pretending to be Chimera now, because he wanted to get Ranger's attention and figured that it would lend him more credibility to pretend to be the man he spent a lifetime hunting.

I wasn't sure what to believe. I heard my mother welcoming Ranger, downstairs, and looked at grandma, "Are you leaving anything out?" She shook her head. I didn't even know if any of this was relevant, but it did put some things in perspective. Grandma's insatiable curiosity, which I'd always put down as a late life rebellion, had always been a part of her. Considering I'd always felt like a bit of an alien in my family, it was nice to know that I came by my own curiosity, honestly.

"The stuff you said the other day, about losing myself if I had chosen Morelli," I said, "Is that what you meant? You lost yourself?"

"No," Grandma said, firmly, "I didn't know what I wanted with my life, and your mother made that decision for me, and I was very happy. Reinventing who you are is fun. The only thing I regret is that I didn't go back to work. I wanted to get a job at the police station, but it wasn't something you did in those days if you had kids. Not unless you really needed to, and your grandfather worked hard and provided for us. And he put up with me learning how to cook, which I always thought he deserved a metal for."

"I just can't imagine you like that," I said.

She smiled, "In the end, you and I have both made the right choice. I always had a hunch that I knew where Balthazar went when he left me there, and I just didn't have the energy to pursue it anymore. I let Harry down a lot before we got married, but he was always there when I needed him and when I realized that, I changed and I tried to be as reliable as he was."

I got up from her bed and said, "I promise I will only tell Ranger, because I think he needs to know. I just have one more question; did Balthazar ever tell you Chimera's name?"

"He only ever called him Chimera, or Tommy… or 'that prick'"

"So my grandfather was either a blue collar worker or a private investigator and you really don't know which?"

"Your grandfather was Harry Mazur," Grandma said, "He was your mother's daddy, and he doted on her. Blood doesn't matter in this."

"You're right," I said, "So that kiss?"

"He's a horse's ass, but he still knows how to kiss."

I went downstairs to find Ranger waiting at the front door. "You have to give a statement to a cop. Morelli said he'd take it at your apartment if you want."

"You owe me a greasy meal," I said.

"I do," he said, "We'll pick up drive thru on the way."

Ranger and I hit a burger place on the way to my place. When we got inside, I handed Ranger the newspaper article I'd printed, and sat down on my counter to eat my bad food, while Ranger read. When he finished, he looked at the pictures and raised an eyebrow. "She's pregnant with mom there. She says Balthazar Williamscouldbe the father, but she was sleeping with him and grandpa at the time so she doesn't know. She also says that he's not Chimera, but the man charged with finding him, before you were assigned blood hound duty." I filled him in on the whole conversation and when I finished, he was smiling.

"What?"

"It just explains a lot about you," he said. He kissed my forehead near my cut, and he shook his head when he looked at it, with it's purple bandaid over the glue, "You're getting quite the collection of band-aids, Babe.

He was right; my knees, my forehead, and my ass. I'm surprised I hadn't done more damage to my elbows or something in the explosion. "Cops say anything about my car?" I asked.

"Rigged to go off when your car hit a certain temperature with the air conditioner on. An interesting choice for the trigger, and the bomb was quite sophisticated. It was a pro at work. Probably not Chimera."

"Probably WB," I said.

"Or someone who works for him."

"Let's not tell Joe about grandma. I promised her it would stay between the two of us."

"I don't see how it's at all relevant to the case, save that it brought in, at the very least, another skilled investigator."

"I want to talk to him again," I said. "But I really don't have the energy for it today. Today I shouldn't have gotten out of bed."

I filled him in on the rest of my day, my suspicions about Lula made him smile again, "It should make things interesting at work for a while," Ranger said.

He had no idea.

"So we need to find this Becky person that Wylitt dated, and I'm probably going to be spending the next, I dunno, million years, in front of a computer, tracing back the leads Nicky gave me."

"Did Herb have any kind of description?" Ranger asked.

"Not really," I said, "But I was thinking, if I call Herb, he can give me a list of dates that the show was in New Jersey, and we can go through their social media to see if we can get pictures of the audience. Maybe we can run the facial recognition software on whatever we dig up?"

"That, will take a while," Ranger said, "But it'll be faster than chasing down anyone with a first or middle name of Becky, Rebecca or any other name that could be shortened to Becky."

"Hector is going to hate me for this," I said.

"Hector has had to work with a helluva lot less before," Ranger said.

I heard the key to my lock, as Joe let himself in. Bob came bounding into the room, rubbed himself up against me, looking for love. I hugged him, because sometimes hugging a dog is just a good way to make yourself feel good after a bad day. Dogs were good at unconditional love; especially Bob. Besides eating things, unconditional love was his specialty.

"Is he feeling better?" I asked.

"I had to take him to the vet, because he was getting dehydrated, but he's himself again," Joe said. He eyed my milkshake and left over fries on the counter and I handed him both. Probably he hadn't eaten anything in a while if he was eyeing cold fries and a half-melted milkshake like it was gourmet food.

"What happened today? Who'd you piss off?" He asked.

"WB probably, because I spoke to some strippers I think."

"And what were you doing at the library?" He asked, "And keep in mind I already know most of this answer because I did speak to the librarian."

"Looking up a guy my grandma used to work for," I said, "His name came up today, and I'd never heard of him before. I wanted to see if he was somehow connected to this, like maybe it was an old enemy from back in the day. Have you ever heard of him? He used to be a PI in the fifties."

"Nope," Joe said. "But I can put you in touch with some retired cops who might have heard of him. They have a poker game every Tuesday at the Legion."

"Thanks," I said.

I told him what I learned from Herb, leaving out the laptop, which may or may not have information on it, and I told him about Becky. For fun, because he looked like he was having a bad day too, I also told him about Joyce, and Electra. I let him in on Charlie's orientation just because he would appreciate it as much as I did. That made him smile.

"So you got into your car, you started it, turned on the AC and why did you leave it?"

"I was throwing out old McDonalds because it was stinking up my car."

"I'll never talk bad about McDonald's again," Joe said. "Glad you're in one piece Cupcake."

He stopped taking notes, put his little notepad away and rubbed his hand over his face. He looked fried. I glanced at Ranger. While he didn't exude concern like I did, he was not exactly not showing concern either. "Hey," I said, "I forgot, because of everything that happened, but I might have a copy of that video you shot."

I fished the thumb drive out of my pocket, and I walked over to the television found the USB port on the side and after about fifteen different attempts to get the damn thing in, and some swearing, the video appeared on my flat screen. Scintillating television it wasn't. "God this sounds like a boring dinner," I said.

"And lucky me, I get to live it twice," Joe replied. We were watching the background of the video, as much as listening to the banal conversation Joe had recorded. After about twenty minutes, Ranger muted the television, and we were able to tune out the original focus of the video.

About fifteen minutes after that, I saw someone I recognized, "There's the connection to Vinnie," I said. There was a guy in the background dressed in a shiny green black suit, with slicked back silver hair, and a pimp stick. I remember thinking when I first saw him that this guy looked like he belonged in Slytherin House. "He used to work for Harry the Hammer," I said, "When I saw him, he was doing 'freelance work' with Nicky and they dropped by the Bonds Office."

"When was this?" Joe asked.

"I dunno," I said, "A year ago maybe? He's also been in the office when Nicky wasn't there to protect Harry."

"So he's tight with Vinnie's father in law," Joe said, "How do I not know him?"

"I don't think he's from around here," I said, "I think either Nicky or Harry brings him in for special work."

"Huh," Joe said, "Any idea what his name is?"

"No," I said.

"We'll run facial recognition on him back at the office," Ranger said.

We'd do the others as well but it was interesting that this was probably the connection to Vinnie. I mean, it was a tenuous connection. I wonder if this is the guy Vinnie pissed off. Ranger wasn't doing as much fugitive apprehension anymore, unless the ticket was huge, maybe Harry brought this guy in to help out with the stuff that was a little too above my pay grade, but not quite Ranger level and Vinnie got on his wrong side?

It seemed a stretch. What the hell did Vinnie do?

The rest of the video only had one more new comer to the table, and none of us recognized him. Well son of a bitch that wasn't helpful. Again we'd run them, but would the Feds realize we had the video if we ran them through the usual databases?

Joe left and I was sorely tempted to just go fall into my bed. I made for the bedroom and Ranger snagged my hand, "If you hadn't just about just been blown up, I'd have no objections. As it was, a pro is out to get you, so we're staying at Haywood, Babe."

I groaned and we went out to the stairs, and I dragged my sorry ass out to Ranger's Cayenne. We made it home and I didn't even bother getting changed. I just went to bed and crashed.

When I woke up, it was to the most glorious massage. I was magically naked and Ranger's hands were rubbing a tingly minty body oil into my lower back. He got close to, but didn't actually touch my ass, and then he worked my legs. I might have drifted off again, but the massage was invigorating, and well, Ranger was naked too, and I was pretty sure the glorious massage, was going to be followed by glorious morning sex. My big clue was something else that was gloriously evident but he seemed in no hurry to remedy. Needless to say, I didn't want to doze off and miss out.

After he finished massaging my back, and legs, he gently removed the bandage covering the hole on my ass caused by the splinter. He kissed it better again, and I grinned into my pillow. He rolled me over, and he kept eye contact as he massaged my front side, again, avoiding the obvious area, but did spend an inordinate amount of time on my breasts. When I was basically over-heated jello, he kissed my forehead and then my skinned knees (which he also inspected) and then he kissed my mouth. He tasted like mint chocolate chip ice cream and I said a little prayer of thanks for edible massage oil, and wrapped my legs around his hips. Yeah, I wanted him to do all the good things I knew he was interested in this morning, but for now, I just really needed to feel him.

Afterwards, we were in the kitchen, listening to Lunch Box pretend to snore. Apparently he objected to waking up at the ass crack of dawn. Normally I would have complained, but my body was too jacked full of endorphins from the massage and the multiple orgasms, to really have it in me to be bitchy. "So what was it about the firing pins that got you all hot and bothered?" I asked.

"It wasn't just the firing pins," Ranger said, "It was the ballistics and the other things he said. I spent the better part of my day making ammunition that I'm going to test out with the same model 357 as your grandmother carried."

"What did you change?" I asked.

"Propellant mostly," he said.

"Why?"

"Because we know the bullets are definitely the same full metal jackets that your grandmother used at the CSI thing, and we know that the math doesn't work for a standard round. I am trying to slow the bullet by using less effective propellant in the rounds."

"What will that do as a forensic countermeasure?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, "So there has to be something to do with the replication process, that requires the slower ammunition."

"What happens to the bullet if it's slower?"

"It won't be as accurate because the bullet will not rotate as swiftly, and it won't be as hot as it leaves the barrel."

"What if the temperature of the bullet is the reason they slow it down. We know the residue is our big clue, maybe the gun is made out of something that melts at lower temperatures."

Ranger got a funny look on his face and he went to find his laptop. He pulled up videos on YouTube of 3D printed guns. He found a man who made a 3D printed 357, that he made himself, using a metal barrel. The gun fired one shot before the magnum round blew a big crack into the gun. The man used a finishing nail as a firing pin, and a rubber band as part of the trigger.

While he scrolled through plastic guns, I googled the melting points of the plastics used from various 3D printer plastics. "Umm, none of these plastics can withstand the heat of a bullet, on their own. They'd need a metal barrel."

"But the printers can be used to make a mold," Ranger said.

"But if they can replicate barrels why would they print a plastic gun?"

"Because you could be certain you disposed of the weapon completely, when you were finished with it," Ranger said, "All you'd have to get rid of, would be the barrel."

"It's scary how quickly you thought of that reason," I said. "The other reason is that there would be no record of the weapon anywhere but you still have the problem of disposing of the barrels."

Ranger called the lab and had them to focus on the residue's similarity to the plastic from various 3D printers, and then he hung up. So my grandma was pretty tech savvy, but that was hardly the norm. My mother could barely operate her cell phone, Joe's grandmother thought they were the devil's creation and refused to go near them, and many of the elderly people in my building refused to carry them, or to use any kind of computer.

So why would a man, in his eighties, change from a tried and true method of disguising your ammo, for something all high tech and modern? I mean granted he was a world famous assassin and it stood to reason that he was up on his tech, but still, you'd think he'd be a little old school. And could we really count Williams out? Grandma swears that Balthazar was in charge of looking for Chimera, what if the reason he never found him, was because he was looking for himself?

Using my laptop, I accessed the search Minnie had done for me, on Balthazar Williams and came up with mostly the same stuff I found at the library. What he did find that I couldn't, was a picture of their old Unit, and it was captioned. Balthazar was definitely there, but there was no Thomas, or Thompson, or anything that could be abbreviated to Tommy. His military record was sealed, so Minnie hadn't been able to access it. I drew Ranger's attention to it, and he made a phone call. Two minutes of conversation and we were told we'd have the information about all members of the Unit, by the end of the day.

Not going anywhere, I thought about everything Balthazar and I spoke about the day before, trying to remember anything I might have missed.

"Ranger?" I said, he was fully absorbed in YouTube videos of printed weapons. Either he was doing research for the case, or he was getting ideas to file away for later.

"Hmm?"

"Is Balthazar right or left handed?" I asked. He picked up on things like that within a second and a half of meeting someone.

"Right handed," he said.

"What if the reason he's using the plastic, has nothing to do with forensic countermeasures, and everything to do with weight? He's got arthritis in his right hand. Those videos say the trigger is lighter. His eyes looked like they were still good, but… I mean, he might not look it, but the man is eighty something. Some things have to give."

"It'll be my knees, for me," Ranger said, "You're right though, that's a possibility. Here is a question, now that you've met him, is he the man who bumped into you at the grocery store?"

I closed my eyes and thought about it. The thing was, Balthazar stood out. He was an attractive man, even as old as he was. I didn't think it was him. "Can you get a still from the dash cam video?" I asked, "I want to show it to Joyce to see if that's the old guy from the night Wylitt died."

"I'll get someone to bring Joyce in, tonight," he said, "We'll question her in the morning."

"How are you going to do that without anyone noticing?"

"It'll be unconventional," Ranger said, "What are your plans for today?"

"I'm going to the Bonds Office to get my check for Peeping Tim, and I'm going to check on Lula. Then I'm going to come back here and go through Nicky's list."

"Take Tank," he said.

"Can I take Lester instead?" I asked. I wanted to see if Lester made any progress on our side project.

"Should I be worried?" he teased.

"No," I said, "I'm just thinking, if Lula's pregnant, and it's not Tank's I don't want to be a part of that discussion, you know?"

"Liar," he said with a grin, and he glanced at his watch,"I'm fine with you taking Lester, but you're going to have to wait until around ten."

"Why?"

"He's not here, he'll be at his sister's bringing her breakfast."

"Lester has a sister? I thought his parents split when he was little and neither of them remarried."

"Long story," he said.

"I've met a lot of your family; how come I haven't met Lester's sister? I would think that she would have been one of the first people I met."

"It's complicated," he said, "But we don't get along, and it's entirely my fault. She is a good woman who has been dealt a shit hand lately. Lester's got leeway with his morning schedule so he can keep an eye on her."

"What does she do?" I asked.

"She's a florist," he said, "I've got to go. Lester loves talking about her; he's a very proud big brother. He'll probably introduce you if you ask him."

He kissed me properly before he left and as soon as the door closed, Lunch Box hopped off of his perch and came over to say good morning and to steal some fruit from the fruit bowl on the counter. I peeled a clementine for him and watched him happily destroy it.

"How much trouble can a florist get into?" I asked him.

Lunch Box responded by walking over to the bowl and demanding a fucking banana.

 _AN: After reading this again, I realize that Gladys the Librarian could be mistaken for Lester's sister. She's not. I just like the idea of a pink haired mellennial being named Gladys._


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: HI! It's been an interesting few weeks, but I promise that I've been writing away. The little bit about Lester's sister in this chapter is just setting up stuff in another story that I've been working on. There won't be anymore of her in this story, until maybe at the very end. Thanks for your patience and your reviews!**

Lunch Box was very interested in my computer research, and he sat in front of my keyboard, bobbing his head up and down every time I typed something. I swear he could follow everything I was doing and I was pretty sure that when I came home today he'd have his own Twitter account. Hell, he'd probably have a better grasp of Twitter than I do. When ten rolled around, I got up and invited Lunch Box downstairs with me. He followed me to the elevator again, and since I knew Ranger was busy, I knocked on Tank's door and asked him if he wanted company.

"Get over here, bird," Tank said, and Lunch Box happily wobbled over to Tank's desk and scaled the side of it. Tank pulled a bag of Jelly Beans out of a drawer and put a couple of them on the desk in front of Lunch Box.

"Fuckin A!" The bird shouted before settling in to savor his treat. Tank more or less ignored the bird from that point, and that seemed to suit Lunch Box just fine. I grinned, and went to find Lester, who was just about to pour himself a coffee in the break room. I greeted him by slapping him in the back of the head.

"What did I do?" he asked.

"You have a sister?" I said.

"I've told you about her," he said.

"No," I said, "You haven't, and I've been through all of your personnel records, and your official documentation says you have no siblings. How old is she?"

"She's two-ish years younger than I am."

"And? How come I don't know her?" I prompted.

"I dunno," he said, "I guess it's never come up. And she's a quasi step sisters. Our parents were together forever, but they didn't get married. So she wouldn't be anywhere in my records because legally she's not family."

"Tell me more," I said.

"Our parents hooked up when her mom was pregnant. Her father bailed just after he found out he was going to be a dad; said that a family and the career he wanted wouldn't be copacetic. So anyway, my mother split the year before, and our parents met in a group therapy session for the newly divorced with kids, hit it off, and we did the Brady Bunch thing just after my sister was born."

"Her dad and your mom should have hooked up. They'd have been perfect for each other.."

"No, we decided when we were younger that my dad was her dad, her mom was my mom. The splitters, as she called them, were my mother and her father, and we were careful to make that distinction. You've got to earn being called mom and dad, and they didn't."

I knew Lester's mother popped up in his life periodically and Lester pretty much ignored her. She left when Lester was little because she decided she wasn't the mothering type after all. She didn't turn up in Lester's life again until he was 18 when she said she could handle being a mother to an adult, and wanted to make up for lost time. Lester wanted absolutely nothing to do with her. Now I guess I knew why; he had a real mom.

He got a dark expression on his face for a moment as he remembered something not good. Probably to do with his mother.

Then he chuckled to himself, "You'll love her. She's a fucking riot. She comes across as all mild and sweet, but she's got bite. And she'll happily cuss Ric out, in German, which is hilarious, because she's all bark when she does it. Ric scares her shitless, but she's willing to tell him to fuck himself when he crosses a line. ."

"German?" I asked.

"Mom died when she was fifteen, and while dad was trying to get custody, her father, who she'd met like twice, decided to exercise his parental rights and carted her off to Germany, where he was based. It's a bit of a shitty story, actually. The short version is, she went away, and when she came back, she spoke five languages, had a degree from LMU in Munich and a fiancé she picked up in France."

"Sounds like the plot of a movie," I said.

"It does, a bit."

"So why doesn't she like my man?" I asked.

"Because, not to put too fine a point on it, Ric was a prick to her when we were kids. I mean he was a prick to everyone back then, but he liked to make Molly cry. Wouldn't let her call Rosa her grandmother, made sure to point out that she wasn't family because our parents weren't actually married, that sort of thing.

"Why didn't they get married?"

Lester shrugged, "They just never got around to it, and we never asked."

"You made up with Ranger though, so why didn't Molly?"

"Because Molly moved to Germany before Ric stopped being a piss-ant. She accepts that he's changed, and he's apologized, but some cuts go deep, and the thaw between them has been slow. They speak now at family parties, which is an improvement to even a few years ago."

"Have you got a picture of this elusive sister?" I asked.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, producing a beat up picture from the bill compartment, "It's not recent; it was taken a few months before mom got sick."

In the picture, she was a foot shorter than Lester was, and they were standing in front of a swimming pool somewhere. Lester was in swim trunks, in good shape, but this was pre-military so pre-bulky muscles. He had an arm around her and she was wearing a little purple bikini over early adolescent curves, and she had a massive black hoodie unzipped over it. She had light brown hair, and pasty white skin that looked like the sort of skin that didn't tan. I couldn't see her eyes because they were hidden behind a pair of purple John Lennon glasses. They both had big toothy grins on their faces, and they looked close.

"I fucking love her," Lester said, "But she's shy and she comes across as bitchy at first, unless she's working. When she's working she's too in her element to remember to be introverted."

"Ranger said she's a florist?"

"Yep," Lester said. He took his picture back and put it back in his wallet. "So, did you need me for something, or were you just harassing me for personal information?"

"I need you to ride with me," I said.

"Cool," he said.

Fifteen minutes later we arrived at the Bonds Office and Lester took over the couch, lounging carelessly on it, hogging it, so I had to sit across from Connie at the desk. Lula was here; I saw her car in the lot, but I didn't see her in the office. Before I could ask anything Connie said, "She periodically emerges to grab a cup of decaf coffee and then she goes back into the bathroom."

"Uh Oh," I said.

"She went in with two big Rite Aide bags."

"What am I missing?" Lester asked.

"Dunno yet," I said.

He shrugged, and sat up to look out the window when a car turned around in the lot. He looked like he was being lazy, but Lester knew what was going on around him. All of Ranger's men were good at looking without looking like they were doing anything. Lula came out of the bathroom with two bags and she handed me one. Actually 'handed' is a nice way of saying she shoved it at me in an angry panic.

I opened the bag and recoiled, Lula shoved her hand in the bag and waved a used pregnancy test in my face. "They all say that. All of them!"

The test had a big pink plus sign on it. "Yeah but you peed on all of these, and now I'm holding a bag of things you peed on."

"I wouldn't worry about it," Lester said, "Pee is sterile."

"Yeah but it's still a bag of things Lula peed on," Connie said. Lula snatched the bag away from me and shoved the test in my hand. My sister said that pregnancy was contagious, and I remembered that while staring at the stick and suddenly dropped it. I crossed myself and looked at Lula.

"I don't know what you want me to do now. Am I congratulating you, or are we freaking out together?" I asked.

"She's taken like two hundred pregnancy tests," Connie said, "I'm willing to bet she's looking for someone to freak out with."

"Well," Lester said from the sofa, "That's not going to solve anything. You're going to have to…"

"Shut up!" We all said and he recoiled.

"Lester, right now is not a time for rationality, and we don't need you to fix anything. We know what needs to be done. Now lie there and resist the urge to comment," I said.

Lester wisely chose to hide behind a magazine he snagged from the table in front of the sofa.

"So," Connie said, "How pregnant is pregnant?"

"I don't know," Lula said.

"What do you mean you don't know? Count backwards to your last period," Connie said.

"I ain't missed one," she said.

Connie got onto the internet to consult Doctor Google. "Apparently that's not unusual; were there any that were different from what you're used to?"

"I dunno; I guess the last two have been a little funky."

"Well maybe you're two months?" I suggested.

"Doesn't one of these tests have a how-far-along-you-are indicator?" Connie asked.

"No, them things are expensive," she said.

Probably they were cheaper than two hundred cheap tests, I thought but didn't say, "Are you okay?" I asked.

"I don't know," Lula said and sat in a chair beside me. "I mean I'm gonna hafta move, or get rid of half my clothes, so the baby has a place to live."

Connie and I glanced at each other, Lula was going to need a raise. I mentally increassed her portion of my capture fees to forty percent. Connie was quietly typing on her computer, upping Lula's hourly rate. If Vinnie said anything about it, we'd whoop his ass. "Your neighborhood isn't really family safe," I said. Lula shook her head. "I can see if there's a two bedroom in my old building; it's rent controlled and Dillon is cool if you need to be late with your rent."

"Yeah, that'd be good," Lula said. "I mean I always thought I'd be a kick ass mother."

"You will be a great mom," I said. "I mean you take care of me all of the time; that's good motherly instinct."

"Fucking right," Connie said. Sure it was often a calamitous assistance but she did take care of me. "You know what we need to do?"

"We need to take you shopping," I said, picking up Connie's train of thought. Lula ate to feel good, but since eating led to puking, retail therapy was the next best thing. "And I have just the thing to perk you up, while we're at it."

I went out to the parking lot and Lester followed. I pulled out my phone and called Sally. He was going to meet us at Macy's and he was going to hit Lula with an Ambush makeover.

"I'm in Wallgreens right now, but I can change that up a bit. She like, need anything?" Sally asked.

"Prenatal vitamins would probably be good," I said. "Ask the Pharmacist what the good kind are."

"Right on," Sally said, "I'll put like, a bow on it and everything. Make it a gift. Kiddies are like, the best. This is going to be so fucking cool."

So we piled into the SUV and Lester drove us to Macy's where we met Sally in the Cosmetics department. He was like a bouncy puppy around Lula. All excited because she was knocked up and his mood was infectious, and her freak out was gradually giving way to excitement. So while he was giving her a funky, ambush makeover, Lester and I snuck away after Sally promised to take Lula and Connie back to the bonds office, when they were ready.

"So who's the daddy?" Lester asked.

I shrugged, "My money is on Tank," I said. "When Lula wrote off the Explorer a few months back, he played nurse for a few days and they seem to be sort of semi-on again, but I don't know. Lula doesn't talk about her private life a lot. I know she goes on a lot of dates, but she doesn't really say who with."

"I wouldn't have guessed that," Lester said. About Tank? Or Lula's lack of explicit dating detail? I guess it didn't really matter. I was about to get into to SUV when he stopped me. He was looking at his phone and he muttered something under his breath. He opened the trunk and pulled out a mirror on a stick and a wand thing. He checked the SUV out, and looked under the hood. Then he checked under the seats. "We're good."

I got in and Lester started the vehicle and was distracted by his phone again, "Shit, I need to make a detour on the way back to the office." The detour was to this ugly little industrial park where he told me to wait in the car with instructions to call in to Rangeman if he gave the hi sign.

The park held a recycling facility, with it's associated office building. A place that manufactured car parts, and a few other buildings that I couldn't guess the use of. There was also a little strip mall which was where Lester was headed. The mall had a greasy spoon, a convenience store, a store that looked like it sold coveralls and work boots, and there was a little flower shop at the end. Parked in front of the flower shop was a yellow two seater BMW and a little navy blue VW I didn't recognize the model of.

Lester went inside the shop and a few minutes later he was dragging a well dressed blonde man out of the shop, literally by his ear. They exchanged some words, and blondie got into the Beemer and peeled out of the lot. A woman came out of the shop, hugging herself. She was petite, but how small was hard to tell because she was wearing enormous black stillettoes. Her very dark brown hair was pulled back into a clip, and she had makeup so flawless it would have given Sally a hard on. She was wearing a loose fitting, sleeveless grey sweater dress, that tapered to the knee, and she'd belted at the waist with a little silver belt.

She looked very out of place in the business park. Lester looked just as pissed with her, as he was with Beemer man, and he was giving her what for. I couldn't hear what he was saying unless I wound down the windows in the car, but he'd taken the keys so I couldn't work the power windows. She took exception to something he said, and she knuckle punched him hard in the bicep. It was a dirty shot, the kind that leaves your whole arm numb. Lester clearly said, "Fuck!" And started shaking out his arm, while she laid into him. Ahh this had to be his sister. Only siblings fight like this.

He shoved something in her hand, and she threw it back at him. He missed catching it because he was too busy trying to rub feeling back into his bicep. When whatever she threw hit the ground, I recognized it; it was her panic button. She went into her store and slammed the door, he picked up the panic button, heaved a visible sigh and followed her inside.

As entertaining as this was, and as curious about her as I was, I didn't think now was the time to introduce myself to… actually, I didn't know her name. I reminded myself to ask Lester what the hell was up with his nameless sister and Beamer man, but changed my mind. I didn't need another mystery rolling around in my head. I had Vinnie's problem, Grandma's problem, and Chimera to deal with. I only had so much RAM to operate with.

Lester came back to the car, and tossed a smashed panic button into the glove box. "She can be worse than you," he muttered.

"I shoot mine; I don't mash them. What the hell did she use?" I asked pulling out the severely mangled fob from to glove box to examine it. She'd done a thorough job.

"Big fucking pair of pinking sheers."

I didn't really know what those were, but I assumed he meant big heavy scissors. "How's the arm?"

"Molly is the fucking master at the dead leg, or dead arm. I swear she could drop Tank if she wanted to," he said. He started the car and backed out of the space. "I'm going to have to get Ric involved. She hates him, but he'll scare her into taking the fucking panic button."

"Well not that one, because she killed it," I said.

"Do you have any idea how much those things are worth?"

"Can't be much, like what? Fifty bucks?"

"Keep telling yourself that, Beautiful."

Lester dropped me off at Rangeman, and after seeing me inside, said something about having to go to New York to talk to a doorman. After snagging Lunch Box from Tank's office, I went upstairs to dive into Nicky's file again.

Mostly what he gave me were a list of victims he was pretty sure were hits ordered by W.B. There were three victims that he'd done all the work on, because they were guys who worked for Harry, and Harry wanted to personally kick WB's ass into next Tuesday.

Victim one was a fifty nine year old, semi retired Wise Guy, Nicky simply named as Pauley. Pauley was in his garage, working on his Cadillac when 'Some asshole walked in and stabbed him in the neck with a Phillips screwdriver.' Shitty deal for Pauley, but more importantly, Pauley hadn't left Harry's organization under the best of circumstances. There were rumors that Pauley and Mrs. The Hammer had maybe a little more than a flirtation going on. Now this was an unfounded rumor and Nicky spelled out in his notes, that if that were the case, Pauley would have disappeared before he had a chance to retire. The real reason for the retirement, was that Pauley had to have a hip replacement, and rather than ask Harry for the money, he decided to get creative with the accounting. He made up for it by smuggling contraband across the border by using his metal hip to get stuff around airport security.

What stuff, Nicky didn't specify in his notes. Why this was a problem for Harry, besides the fact that one of his men was killed, was thanks to the rumor about Pauley and the Missus, Harry became suspect numero uno and had to lay low for a while, missing out on a lucrative business deal (again unspecified) and that deal is what made it so WB was able to make it onto the big stage.

The second case was the murder of a woman who wasn't connected to a Family in any way and just had really shitty luck. Her name was Gertrude Lancaster, and she lived in upstate New Jersey. Gertrude was dating a state trooper and that said statey pulled over a man named Frankie Bondy. Bondy was doing Mach nine in some sports car, and he was arrested on the side of the road, and his car was impounded. It was maybe a bad idea on the State Trooper's part, because not only did Bondy get off without a ticket, since the Statey's radar gun had been playing up all day and he didn't know how fast Bondy was going. His real problem were Bondy's big league connections; in fact he worked for the law firm that represents Harry's interests.

The next day Gertrude was gunned down while she was working in her garden. Bondy was accused, by the cop, of retaliating, and found himself being questioned heavily while he was supposed to be in court defending Noneck Kazinsky, a man who was on trial for killing someone in the Rizzoli Family. Since he had backup council, the B team had to do the cross examination of a witness that they were counting on Bondy to crack. Harry's organization figured the hit on Lancaster was designed to ensure that NoNeck was without his proper defense and wound up in the slammer. Harry, 'hypothetically' thought a little payback was in order. So someone maybe took out some guy named Bucky, and that in turn led to NoNeck's demise; apparently they swirlied him to death in the jail cell toilet.

NoNeck, according to Nicky's note was "Very important to the organization."

The third victim was Cindy Genovese. She was 87 years old and smothered with a pillow. A beloved grandmother of one of the largest crime families, practically a saint in their eyes, was brutally murdered and everyone knew that WB ordered the hit, and the rumors about who WB was, were what started the ensuing chaos. High level hits were ordered based on sketchy information. Harry heard that the Grizolli family had a deal with WB to help them obtain some territory on Stark that they'd been coveting, in exchange for wiping out Cindy. Nicky also knew that Gruzzi heard that she was killed as retribution for a planned hit in the Gillman organization.

There were a lot of skirmishes for a while, lots of fingers pointed and lots of men became disenfranchised, because guilty or not, they couldn't be trusted anymore, and WB scooped them up.

I picked up the rest of the list. Nicky stuck a post-it to it and told me that the whole bullshit mess gave him a fucking headache and this shit was what I was paid to do. He did kindly provide police reports for the murders and I opened up my web browser to see what the media had on this stuff, before I got the invasive search engines to go to work. Chimera and Nicky both said that WB was into taking linchpins but I needed to know what their murders set off.

I was about to start some searches when Lunch Box walked onto the keyboard. "Yes?" I asked him. He looked pointedly at the place where the fruit bowl had been earlier. It was now on top of the fridge. I went to get it down for him and had the bowl over my head when he screamed "FUCK OFF!"

I jumped, dropping the fruit bowl on my foot, and turned in time to see Lunch Box start attacking my keyboard.

"Hey!" I yelled, hopping over to him, and he ran off with my F key. "You little bastard, give that back!" I yelled and he bolted and hid under the sofa.

I was on my hands and knees, trying to get the bird out, when Ranger came in.

"Do I want to know?" He asked.

"Lunchbox stole my fucking, 'F' key," I said.

Ranger walked over to the computer and looked at the screen, "Interesting."

"If you tell me that he's found some major clue that is going to crack this whole case, I'll leave," I said. I was still on hands and knees with my ass in the air as I attempted to coax the bird out. Lunch Box was hissing at me and I'm pretty sure he flipped me off with his claws.

"No, I think he went apeshit on your computer because he managed to google snakes, and he scared himself."

"How the fuck does a bird use google?" I asked, turning my head to look at Ranger.

"Do you have predictive typing set up on this?"

"How the fuck should I know? Can you get him to come out so I can fix my computer?"

"Lunchbox," Ranger said. The bird came out from under the sofa and walked over to Ranger. Ranger held out his hand and the bird dropped the key into it, "Go make your bed."

Lunchbox walked to his cage, hopped in, and began shredding newspaper on the bottom of it.

"He's a little shit disturber," I muttered, as I knelt and Ranger hoisted me to my feet.

"He likes you," Ranger said, "If he didn't, he'd have bitten you when you were trying to get him out from under the sofa."

He popped the 'f' key back onto the keyboard.

"We don't need to have kids; we have a mouthy pink cockatoo to drive us crazy."

Ranger grinned, "He grows on you."

"You maybe; he listens to you."

"Not a lot of people don't."

I was about to refute that, but it was true. Pretty much everyone did what Ranger told them to do. Except me, really, and I was only disobedient some of the time. Though maybe Lester's sister ignored him when she felt like it, too.

"You getting anywhere?" He asked.

"No," I said, "Nothing new or even remotely helpful. I switching tacks. I'm going to look at the Social Media crap again. I downloaded a bunch of pictures from Twitter this morning. Maybe I'll recognize some people without having to resort to Hector's software.

"I also have a stack of police reports, that i'm going to have to run searches on, because I have no idea how any of these are Lynch pins and maybe some other names are going to pop up."

"I'll send Carlos up with his laptop; you can split the work. What happened to Lester?"

"Something went down with his sister. He tried to give her a panic button and she killed it with a big pair of scissors. He said he had to go talk to a doorman in New York, and that you were going to have to scare her into upping her security."

"Were they fighting when she killed the button?"

"Yup," I said.

"Molly doesn't respond to threats; she responds to reason. Unfortunately Lester doesn't remember that when he's freaking out about someone hurting his baby sister."

"Is she crazy smart like he is?" I asked.

"She's smart like you are," Ranger said.

"I disagree; I don't speak five languages."

"She speaks Spanish and English because she grew up speaking Spanish and English. She speaks German because her step family are German, so she had to learn. French and Italian because her father wanted her to learn them, so when he was posted in Italy and then France, he put her in local boarding schools and she picked them up through immersion. The languages are a survival instinct, nothing more."

"Cool," I said. Ranger ate a sandwich while I used the wireless printer to print off the pictures I'd downloaded in the morning. There were probably about fifty of them, and while I was waiting for them to spit out, I sent a text to Herb, asking if there were dates from previous years that I should look at. He said he'd email me his tour dates, and I went back to the kitchen, and began sorting out stacks of pictures on the counters.

"Nope," Ranger said suddenly, "I can't do it."

He scooped up all of my stuff shoved it into the file box Nicky gave me, which was also home to Merlin's laptop and slapped my computer closed.

"Ummm?" I said.

"I thought I could do it, but the chaos is giving me an eye twitch."

"It's not chaos! I have a system."

"Yeah, but I'm a smart guy and I can't follow it. Besides, the bird is just waiting for you to go to the bathroom so he can start shredding all of this."

Ranger went to the door, and used his elbow to unlatch it, and backed out.

"My cube doesn't have this kind of space; that's why I'm working up here."

"I know," he said. He led me down stairs to the floor that housed the gym and Hector's lair, and he used his fob to open the door to what I thought was a supply closet. It wasn't. It was a an office that was taken up almost entirely by a massive U shaped desk. The walls were cork board, there was a flat screen TV on one of them, and on one side of the desk was a key board, and three computer screens, the CPU under the desk. Beside the right hand screen was my brown bear cookie jar. To the left was a desktop organizer with a stack of post-its, a bunch of sharpies and pens. There was a little tin in the organizer and I went to the desk to see what it was.

"You bought me Justice League paperclips?"

"Push pins too," he said. "Go all Beautiful Mind to your hearts content, but do it in here so we don't have to live in it at the end of the day. I'll get an extra chair brought down for Minnie, and he can work here with you on this."

"Are there other surprises in here I need to know about?"

"Fucked if I know; I just bought the paperclips. A bunch of the men had fun picking out your office supplies so who the hell knows what you got." He looked at his watch and frowned, "I have a meeting. If you can think of anything else you need in here, order it on the company credit card, and I'll expense it."

"Do a coffee maker and a water cooler count?"

"The water cooler I can have someone bring up from storage, and if you need shelves, tell Ella, and she'll set you up."

"Cool," I said. He put the box down on the desk, told me we'd christen the room properly later, and left.

First thing I did was test out my spinny desk chair that was identical to the one in Ranger's office. There was no window in the office, but I didn't really need one. I opened up one of the two heavy file drawers and found it full of presents wrapped in white and silver wedding wrapping paper. The other drawer was similarly equipped.

I unwrapped the present from Lester first, and found a stack of grey legal pads with a Batman watermark. Hector gave me package of Ghostbusters pens. There was a red stapler, adorned with a plastic unexploded bomb with a 'lit' fuse decorating it. Hal hooked me up with a six pack of coffee mugs that upon closer inspection had pictures of a few of my favorite old cars on them, on one side, and their method of demise on the other side.

Most of the presents made me laugh, and I had probably the least professional office in the building but I didn't care. It was nice and it made me feel welcome. At the bottom of the drawer was a present from Ranger, and I opened it to find a copy of the picture I recently learned he takes with him everywhere. I put it in a place of honor on my desk, next to the cookie jar, which I discovered Ella had filled with chocolate chip cookies. All unpacked, the paper overflowing out of my recycle bin, I got down to work.

There were quite a few women I recognized in the pictures, from the strip show, most of them because I knew them growing up. I didn't want to think about the fact that I recognized a few of my mother's friends in the pictures, and I was pretty sure Joe would have a stroke if he knew that his mother had been to one of the shows. My friend Mary Lou went to more than one of these events, and never invited me, which might have pissed me off if she hadn't gone to them with her mommy friends, and it was doing me a kindness not dragging me along.

I found my phone and called her while I continued to look at pictures. She answered the phone with a, "You absolutely will not be strapping a bottle rocket to your skateboard, so don't even think about it!.. Hi Steph!"

"Do I want to know?" I asked.

"Nothing big going on here, the boys have built a jump for their skateboards and they are trying to figure out if there's a way to make them jump higher. So if you're feeling up to it later, you might want to bring me a coffee while I'm inevitably sitting in the ER."

"You don't want to try to stop them?"

"I step in when it looks like they are about to do something that could kill them."

"And a skateboard jump doesn't count?"

"Nope."

"Okay," I said, "So I'm calling because my grandmother was married to a stripper you like."

"Go Grandma. Out of curiosity, which one?" This is how messed up my life was, she wasn't even phased by that phrase. Most people who knew me had just started to roll with the random shit that came out of my mouth. I could probably tell them that for the morning, I was going to be dressed as a clown, filling balloons full of shaving cream for a group of monkeys who were being launched into space as part of an experiment, and they'd buy it. Hell, I might even believe it; I've done stranger things.

I filled her in on grandma's brief second marriage. "Well damn. Merlin was a little on the old side, but he was hot and he did real magic tricks in his act."

"Did you see anyone weird there?"

"No," she said, "Mostly just divorced soccer moms and those of us lucky enough to get babysitters for the night. It's usually a lot of fun. Some of the women get carried away, but the guys are nice and usually come out to have a drink after the show is over."

"Why is it in a Bingo Hall?"

"Because it has a liquor license and it can accommodate their stuff."

"Herb said that there was a woman there, named Becky, who was close with Merlin for a while. Do you know who she was?"

"Nope," Mary-Lou said, "I mean not by name anyway. He had regulars that he pulled up on stage. I knew some of them, but most of them I didn't, and none of the girls I knew were called Becky. How did you know I go anyway? It's not like there's a guest list."

"Going through their social media; I saw some pictures."

"Well shit," she said. "Good thing Lenny doesn't know the first thing about using Twitter or he'd be pissed."

"I'm pretty sure Lenny goes to strip clubs," I said.

"He absolutely goes to strip clubs; I'm just saying that I told him I was going to Bingo," she said.

"Why?"

"Because I go to Bingo every Sunday with the girls anyway and he doesn't need to know that every three months, I use my Bingo winnings to do shooters off of the abs of some guy I don't know. What happens at Bingo, stays at Bingo."

"So am I the only one who didn't know about these guys?"

"What are you complaining about? Until recently you've been sleeping with the two hottest men in Trenton, which I think is frankly rather selfish of you."

I laughed, "Okay, so you can be no help here?"

"Nope," she said. "Hey, did you ask him to check credit card receipts?"

I thunked my head down on my desk. No, no I didn't because I was an idiot, and that wasn't like, the first fucking thing I should have done.

"I'll take that as a no?" Mary-Lou asked.

"That'd be a no," I said, "Hey, a lot has been going on, and my brain is fried. Lula's pregnant, she hasn't told us who the dad is; my grandma's husband was murdered and I just found out she was hot and heavy with a PI back in the day, and that this guy may or may not be a famed hitman as well. Vinnie is up shit creek, and it's not an optimal time because he and Lucile are trying to have a baby, and my mom has decided that now would be the perfect time to guilt me into having a huge wedding reception."

"Will it be an open bar?" Mary Lou asked.

"Yeah, probably."

"I'm there."

"Like you wouldn't be there anyway," I said.

"So anyone else interesting go to these things?"

"Joe's mom," I said.

"I don't know if I'm comfortable with that. I mean saints aren't supposed to go to strip clubs right?"

"That's my problem with it too. Also, if Joe found out he'd have an aneurysm."

"Nah, he'd probably say she's earned the right to see a few naked men wave their flags at her."

That was true. Joe's father was a first class asshole when he was alive, and she put up with everything. She hardly ever raised her voice, and was always ready to feed an army at a moment's notice, and usually with a smile on her face. And to cap it all off, Joe's grandma Bella lived with her. Which earned her a few shots off of some abs, if you ask me.

"Oh Christ, they just took a tub of Crisco out to the ramp, and it looks like they're getting ready to grease things up. I'd better go."

"If they don't end up in the ER, do you want to get coffee anyway?"

"Hey, if I don't end up in the ER later, what do you say to a couple of drinks somewhere? I haven't seen you since before you got engaged, and I miss you."

"Done. Call me after the kids go to bed."

I hung up with Mary-Lou, and got a text from Lula telling me to call her. Why she didn't just call me, I have no idea. I called Herb to get him to send me credit card information, which he told me was all on the laptop if I could crack it open, so I took the laptop to Hector and told him what I needed. That done, I called Lula.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I'm gonna need a wing man tomorrow, so you best not be busy."

"I'm not," I said. I mean I was busy as fuck, but Lula was kind of a priority right now. "What's going on?"

"Sally called up one of his fans, who has like a million kids, and she told him the best lady doctor was this woman named Doctor Shirley Calverton, but she's supposed to be impossible to get in to see. Sally played the celebrity card and he got the receptionist to fit me in tomorrow morning early, on a cancellation, so I'm gonna need someone to drive me on account of because I can't get my ass out of bed before ten lately."

"What time's the appointment?" I asked.

"7:00," Lula said, "And then I'm meeting with a real estate agent to look at houses in nice neighborhoods."

This was tricky ground here. Lula sounded excited, but a house in a nice neighborhood would mean a mortgage and no bank was going to give Lula a mortgage with her current job. "Lula," I said, "Are you sure you want to do that? I mean do you have a down-payment saved up already? And wouldn't it be better to get a small affordable apartment for now."

"Well I thought that, and I was gonna talk to your Super like you said, but Sally got all upset and said that the little dude or dudette is gonna need a yard to play in, and so he said, since he's gotta get a bigger place on account of he needs the space to shoot his videos and stuff, he said we should move in together, since it makes sense. So while he's doing his thing tomorrow, you and me will scout houses, and when we've found some I like, Sally said he'll pick from those. So long as it's got a big basement that can be turned into his studio, he's easy."

Oh. My. God.

"That's really generous of Sally," I said.

"Yeah, he's been fucking awesome. Anyways, we've got it all worked out. I'll handle the baby while he's taking the little dudes to school on his bus, and then I'll go into work right after, and his assistant will look after the baby when Sally has to do the afternoon run. The rest of the time, Sally will be with the baby until I get home."

"Sally is going to be your manny?" I said. This kid was going to be foul mouthed, very fashion forward, but fucking lucky, because honestly? Not only was I pretty sure Lula would be a kick ass mom, Sally was great with kids, had a really big heart and was probably one of the coolest people I knew. The next time I saw him, I was going to give him one hell of a hug.

"So you down with picking me up or what?"

"Yeah," I said. "Where is this doctor?"

Lula gave me the address and I groaned internally. I was going to have to leave the apartment at six to get her there on time. I hung up with Lula, and looked at the clock. I hadn't killed much time and I doubted Hector had cracked the laptop yet, so I went back to my pictures and sorted them out by date. Stuck them to the walls and then made a list of people whose identities I knew that were there on each day. That done I called Minnie down to my office and told him to bring something that had twitter on it, and a chair. He came down with a gigantic iPad, and his phone.

"Uncle Ric just told me I'm your bitch. He's going to get me a desk outside your door. I'm officially your assistant."

"Does this mean you'll get me coffee and fetch my dry cleaning."

"Sure, if you don't mind me spitting in your coffee."

Yep. That sounded like the kind of assistant I'd get. "Okay, I have all of these pictures from the various dates that the show has been in New Jersey, this year. Herb just emailed me all of the tour dates for the last few years, and Hector is getting me credit card information off of Herbs computer. We're looking for anyone named Becky, or Rebecca or anything that can be shortened to Becky. Only it doesn't help me that some of the people tagged in these pictures have handles like, MrsDanielRadcliffe47 or PinkyPi22. I need real names. Can you find that shit out?"

"Yes," he said. "Shit's easy. You can't do it?"

"I don't do Twitter," I said. "Or Intagram, and I only sort of use Facebook."

"Why?" He said.

"Dude, I have enough crazy people following me around in real life; I don't need the internet crazies to keep things interesting," I said, "Besides, look at the week I'm having?"

"So you want a list?"

"Yep," I said, "I want names to faces. If we can get a list of possible Rebeccas, Herb can maybe make an ID. We need to know who this woman is."

"Why?"

"Because if anyone is going to know what was going on that had Wylitt go to the FBI, it's probably his baby mama. The Feds don't know about Becky, but if I found out about her, WB probably has too and he is pissed at something Merlin did. Which means Becky could be in danger, especially if she's in the slammer already."

Minnie did his thing, and as he found a name, I put them on the lists of the various days. I was trying to find repeat customers. People I could start questioning who might know Merlin. Hector walked into my office with a flash drive, handed it to me, and smacked Minnie in the back of the head. He rattled off something in Spanish and Minnie translated.

"He said to tell you the fucking laptop is fucking pissing him off, because it's got a fucking partitioned hard-drive and its fucking heavily encrypted. It needs a fucking key to get into it. Without it, it's going to take him a fucking century to crack the fucking encryption on the fucking computer. He's cloning the primary hard-drive for Herb onto an identical computer, and he's removed the passwords, but Herb will have to fucking make up new fucking passwords in order to use the programs, because they should be fucking password protected."

I grinned, "Ranger usually cleans up the language for me."

"I did," Minnie said.

"So what kind of key are we looking for? A password, or something physical like a USB key."

Minnie translated for Hector, who I knew understood me; he responded and Minnie translated again, "He said it's something physical, a USB key, or given the level of encryption it could be an external hard drive. The Partitioned drive will not open without it. He said he recognizes the code and that if it was Merlin who put the encryption on the computer, he's probably a hacker named Ambrosius. Hector said the dude dabbles, mostly does white hat stuff like making extra dough by hacking companies to test their firewalls. This would have taken him time to set up, but it's well within his skill set."

"Is it possible that Merlin found something when he was hacking?" I asked. Minnie relayed to Hector. Hector snorted derisively.

"Only if they were a fucking stupid idiot, would anyone with anything to hide, put something really fucking incriminating on a server and then hire someone to hack their security."

I called grandma, and put her on speaker so Hector could hear exactly what she said. "So Merlin, did he use the computer a lot?"

"Only when he smoked his funny cigarettes. He had a routine, see? He'd smoke, have sex and get on the internet. He said he was playing games, and he was, but he also did this thing that he told me was like a special group chat thing."

"Do you know what he played?"

"Mostly MMOs," grandma said. I actually knew what that meant! "He had this real skinny laptop, that he used to play on, but I don't think it was strong enough to do what he wanted because he'd plug it into this little external hard drive before he played."

"What color was the hard drive?"

"Blue," grandma said, "And it had a sticker of a green dragon on it."

"Do you know what his user name was?"

"He had a few, but when he was on group speak they usually called him Ambrose."

"Thanks grandma," I said. "I don't suppose you've seen that hard-drive anywhere?"

"No," she said, "It wasn't with his stuff, which is weird because he always had it with him."

I hung up the phone with grandma and looked at Hector, "Do you know when Ranger is out of his meeting? We know what Arthur Wylitt's secret life was. He was a hacker."


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: Hello again! Gonna have a full house starting tomorrow so I thought I'd get this up now! Thanks for the love. Hope you all have a great weekend!**

If we wanted a further clue that Wylitt was Ambrosius, Encyclopedia Ric-tanica told us that Merlin was known throughout history by a dozen or so names and Ambrosius was one of them. This gave Hector another angle to explore, and he said he probably had a pretty good idea where Merlin hung out online, and he could start asking questions there.

The USB key that Hector had given me contained the credit card information of the audience members and because he's a go the extra mile kind of guy, he'd linked DMV photos and information to go along with the credit card information. We highlighted any Rebeccas and added them to the various lists, and with that finished, I printed off their DMV pictures for Herb. Then Minnie reminded me that his name was Ricardo Carlos, and he went by his middle name so he wasn't confused with his uncle Ric. It was a good point and since it was an excellent idea, he went through our list to look for anyone with the middle name Rebecca.

"There is another thing you're going to want to consider," he said.

"What's that?" I asked.

"My sisters don't use their real names when they go clubbing. Rosa goes by Rita, Marisol goes by Tania, that sort of thing. That way they don't have to worry about some creep looking them up on the internet. She might be doing the same thing."

"These are mostly soccer moms and grandmothers; if they are going by a fake name it's because they are hiding it from their husband, not because they want to stop a creep from following them."

"So how are we going to deal with that problem?"

"We don't for now," I said, "That's a headache we can't deal with; right now we start with the Rebeccas we know."

He used Hector's handy little database to quickly narrow down the list of middle named Beckys and sent their pictures to the printer. While he was doing that, I made a list of women we knew were regulars to the show, and decided there was no way I wanted to question them on my own, and since it was Joe's case, I gave him a call and told him I was faxing him the lists.

"Cupcake, nobody faxes anymore," he said.

"Well, that's special but your card has a fax number on it, and these lists are hand written and I don't feel like typing them into an email, and the scanner here hates me."

"Alright," he said, "I'll try to read your chicken scratch. By the way, you wanted me to introduce you to some retired cops? If you want to talk to the guy who will know everything, there's a retired desk Sergeant here today visiting his grandson. The guy's name is Rocky Valtieri and if you want gossip from back in the day, he'll have it. I'll make an introduction."

"I'll be right there, and I'll run these through the copier instead of faxing them, and I'll just give them to you in person," I said. I hung up and looked at Minnie, "Add the names to the list, then send pictures of all Beckys to Herb."

"And in fifteen minutes when I'm done that?"

I dropped the pile of police reports in front of him, "Each one of these murders set off a chain reaction. We just don't know what that chain reaction is. Try to figure it out."

"And how the hell am I going to do that?"

"Start with the Media; look for murders that happened after the one in your file. Look for common names, themes, anything that makes your spider sense tingle and explore it. See where it goes."

"Okay, but this is going to take forever."

"Yes," I said, "I know. I'll help later. Before you get started you might want to go find a coffee maker, and you can help yourself to the cookies in the cookie jar. If you go through them all, tell Ella and she'll restock."

I wasn't stupid, this was a teenaged boy I was working with. He could eat his weight in cookies and still be hungry. He'd need fueling to be able to work on the job I was giving him, and the buckwheat and barley sandwiches in the break room weren't going to cut it.

I grabbed Hal, because he was handy and said he was available to hang with me, and he grabbed his keys. We were in the garage, about to get into his Jeep Cherokee, when a beat up 1980s Black Oldsmobile Cutlass Sierra parked next to the 918 and a big guy got out of it. He was big, but he was skinny in what looked like an unhealthy kind of way. He had sallow skin, and his face was heavily scarred, like someone had put it back together but the pieces weren't all in right. He'd played up this look by having half of his face tattooed with jigsaw puzzle pieces that all looked like they were from different puzzles.

He had black eyes, a blonde buzz cut, and what I was guessing was a permanent frown on his face. "Hey man, why are you in town?" Hal asked.

"Why do you think I'd be in New Jersey," he said.

"Again?"

"Whatever, it's easy work, and she's not hard to look after."

Hal realized I had no idea who I was looking at, "Jig Saw, this is Steph."

"Yeah, I'm not stupid. I've watched her back a shit ton of times too."

"I'm not so easy to look after," I said, "Sorry."

"You're not a florist," he said. He didn't say goodbye or anything he just walked passed us into the stairwell.

"He's going to guard Lester's sister?" I said.

"Yeah, he gets Molly, so she doesn't have any problems with him acting as her guard. And he's probably the only one who isn't afraid of potentially pissing off both Ranger and Lester, if something goes wrong with Molly."

Huh...Nope I wasn't going to get into it. I didn't have time. I would meet Molly after this shit was dealt with, and that was final. I got into the Jeep with Hal, and he drove at a Granny's pace to the Cop Shop. I went inside and heard a booming laugh coming from the bull pen. I looked to Joe's desk to see a man about my grandmother's age but a hundred pounds heavier and a foot taller, sitting with Joe, laughing at something Joe was saying.

Joe saw me and waved me over, "I was just telling him about your grandma blowing up the funeral home," Joe said. "Apparently it wasn't her first time."

"Well it wasn't so much that she blew up a funeral home, but a truck carrying a bunch of caskets, outside the funeral home. The funeral home just happened to catch fire."

"How did she manage that?" I asked.

"She and Williams were trying to get away from some guy that had it out for them. The idiot was shooting at them, so Edna thought a distraction was in order and she dropped a cigarette into a can of gasoline. Only she didn't realize the can was there because the truck driver kept having to top up when he stopped anywhere too long, because the gas tank had a slow leak. Some of the flames ignited some dry grass that was permeated with the gasoline and it led back to the truck and BOOM!" He said.

"Oh my God," I said, "I really am just the next generation Edna."

"Well not exactly," Joe said, "It would seem calamity and a gift for being a pain in the ass, skips a generation. You're mother is perfectly normal. If there's anything wrong with her sanity, it's because of you and Edna."

I flipped him off, even though he was probably right.

"Actually, I'd probably know you were her granddaughter without Morelli telling me. Except for the hair, and you're taller, you look a lot like she did back in my day."

"What can you tell me about Grandma and Williams?"

"The idiot should have married her when he had the chance. He was going to pop the question a few times, and always chickened out. Not because he didn't want to be with Edna, but because he knew she wanted a family, and he couldn't give it to her."

"Because he didn't want to risk his children being taken by bad guys out to get him?" I asked. It was Ranger's reason.

"No, because he got the mumps about a year before he met her, and it made him sterile. He literally couldn't give them to her. Only he wouldn't just come out and say shit like that to her; you didn't tell a broad that stuff unless you had to. Makes you seem like less of a man, see?"

Well that was a relief I guess, I wasn't related to a possible scary hit man. Still, "Do you know what kind of cases they worked on?"

"Missing persons mostly, and the odd cheating spouse when things were slow and they needed the cash. There were a lot of missing persons cases back then, and we didn't have the manpower to track them all down, so we'd call Williams and he and Edna would do their thing. He was well liked around here, so when that shit went down with the judge, we all worked hard to clear his name. It took a lot of banging on doors, but we found a witness who saw him sleeping in his car outside of Harry's house, at the time of the murder."

"Do you know who killed the judge?"

"Yeah, the judge's bookie (I forget the mook's name) hired a hit man to take out the judge and told him to make it look like Williams since he already had a pretty strong motive. Got the bookie, didn't get the hit man."

"But Williams was long gone by then so he probably didn't know his name had been cleared."

"Sure he did; he found the bookie."

"So why didn't he tell grandma?" I asked.

"By the time he'd found the bookie, Edna had married Mazur and it was pretty obvious that she wasn't exactly faithful to Williams while she was staying with Harry. He was pissed, but he figured it was best for her anyway, so he hung up his shingle in Newark and continued to do his thing for the PD until he had his hand crushed and had to give it up. Couldn't pull a trigger anymore. Even with the surgery."

"How'd he crush his hand?"

"Horse stepped on it; he never said how he got to be in a position for a horse to step on it, but I got the impression it wouldn't be a good idea to press."

"What's he doing now?" I asked.

"Last I heard he was selling antiques out near the Pine Barrens. Though it could be bullshit."

Hal went still behind me. Our last experience with the Pine Barrens involved a lot of monkeys and some pretty fucked up shit. "He said near, not in," I said.

"I'm bringing a Sat Phone and you'd better be wearing GPS this time."

We got sort of really really really lost last time we were there. "Look on the bright side, no Diesel this time."

"There's that," he said.

He got on his phone to get a list of all of the antique shops near ish to the Pine Barrens. I gave my list of names to Joe, and he thanked me without looking at it. We said goodbye and I thanked Valtieri.

There was no way I was going out there without provisions this time, so I stopped at the market with Hal and we got two cases of water, a box of protein bars, some chips, chocolate and Swedish Berries and we were good for food. Hal stopped off at the Hardware store for some bolt cutters, two big mag lights and about 100 extra batteries. When we were at the cash I saw that there was a sale on Deep Woods Off, so we bought half a dozen bottles of those too. We weren't taking any chances. I'd even suggested a tent, just in case, but he told me he could make shelter if we really needed it.

Forty minutes later we were pulling up to the first antique shop. It was run by a young couple from New York who decided to leave the rat race. She sold pies, and other pastries, while he drove around looking for antiques they could make a profit on. They'd been on American Pickers twice, and A&E had offered them a reality show contract, but then she found out she was pregnant and she didn't want to expose her kid to that, so they were happy to be consultants on shows. How did we know all that? Because they told us their life stories while force feeding Hal blueberry tarts. I got the impression that business was slow lately.

The second place wasn't an antique shop, but rather a place run by an elderly gentleman, named Forest, who repaired old light fixtures and candelabras. When he finished his restorations he carved beautiful wax candles that he fitted with little flickering lights so you didn't have to burn them. The next two places were closed. The last place, we thought we'd struck it big, because the guy running it said he was pretty sure he knew who we were talking about, but it turned out it was just Forest. Since near was a relative term, we decided we'd expand our search to cover greater distances and to include more than just antiques.

We were, in the middle of nowhere, somewhere near the Pines, when the car backfired and juddered to a stop. "What the hell? I filled up before we left."

"I know you did," I said and he topped up when we got here too, just in case. How the hell were we out of gas? Sure enough though, the tank was completely dry. "This doesn't make sense."

"How much gas did you have when we left the last place?"

"I wasn't paying attention," he said. "Shit, I'm a dead man."

"No, we have food water, an armory under the seat, flashlights, and everything we could need. Just call Ranger on the SAT phone and we'll be good to go."

Hal pulled out the phone and went to turn it on, no juice. "No, this battery was full and it's good for a week. With heavy usage."

"Well plug it in," I said, "The gas may be gone, but we can still charge off of the car battery."

He plugged it in, but there was no reassuring charging light. "Umm."

Hal flipped the phone over and popped out the battery. "Hit your panic button. Now."

"Why?"

"The battery is a dummy. I checked this before we left. Someone switched them out."

I hit the panic button and checked my phone for a signal. Nope. "I fucking hate this place," I said. Hal nodded. I was already starting to freak out. Okay should we touch the food and drink? I mean someone tampered with the phone and probably with the gas tank. Hal reached under the seat and produced a gun for me. I took it and then he popped the hood. I knew we didn't have bombs to worry about, he checked for those every time we got into the car. If there was a bomb it was someplace obscure. Which didn't make me feel better. What I knew was, we weren't actually in the Barrens so it wouldn't take long for Ranger to get here.

Hal got into the car a few minutes later and muttered some curses under his breath, "The car looks fine; I think they siphoned the gas from the tank. Probably while we were in that first place. Which means I probably know the next upgrade to all of the Rangeman fleet."

"What's that?"

"Locking gas flaps?"

"How come that isn't already a thing?"

"Never been a problem before," he said. "Your psychos find new and fun ways to fuck with cars and we upgrade."

"Do you think the food is safe?"

"Yeah," he said. "The chip bags would have deflated if they'd been tampered with, and the cases of water look in tact. It would take time to fuck with that and nobody had it."

That was reassuring. We sat there for an hour, in the car, with the windows down, until it got too hot to keep sitting in the car and then we got out and I parked my ass on the hood, and waited, wondering where the hell Ranger was. My watch needed an upgrade. Two way communication, a complaint I voiced out loud, another half an hour and I was done with waiting.

"Okay where's the handheld GPS?" I asked.

"It's in my pocket, why?" Hal asked.

"Give it, I'm seeing where the next gas station is," I said, "I'm willing to walk it if it's not too far."

"No way," he said, "The boss will be here soon."

"Or not," I said, "What if he didn't get the bat signal? What if my watch doesn't work out here because everything is fucky out here?"

"Fucky?" Hal said.

"You heard me," I said, "All we need is gas, and…"

My voice trailed off as I heard the sound of a car engine. It was coming from the right direction, and it sounded supercharged, which meant it was probably one of Ranger's cars. It wasn't. It was a truck and it wasn't black. I waved them down, much to Hal's protest and they pulled over.

"Can we borrow your phone?" I asked the man behind the wheel. He was probably about forty, with greying brown hair, laugh lines around grey eyes, and an easy smile that I couldn't trust.

"Sure," he said, "Car trouble?"

"Yeah and no signal," I said. He had a few bars.

"Yeah only one carrier has a signal out here," he said. I punched in Ranger's number in the phone and he picked up on the first ring.

"The nearest gas station is ten miles away; go for it if you want to."

"I need someway to know you're listening when I set this thing off. I don't like this hit the button and pray BS. What the hell is taking you so long?"

"I'll tell you when I get there. I'm ten minutes out," he said.

I hung up and handed the phone back to the guy. "Help coming?" He asked. I nodded. "Want me to stick around to make sure they get here? Not a lot of traffic in these parts."

"He said he was at the nearest gas station," I said, "How far out is that?"

"About forty miles," he said, "You've got a wait sweetheart, why don't you call him back and you can wait at the house, where you'll be comfortable."

"He drives fast and forty miles isn't that far," I said. Ranger said the nearest gas station was ten miles out. Damn I knew that smile had a little bit too much of a Ted Bundy kind of charm to it. Seriously? This wasn't even a guy that we spoke to today. Some idiot just happened to decide that of all the people he wanted to fuck with, he was going to choose me. I mean I'm riding with a heat packing dinosaur. Did he like the challenge maybe? Maybe he didn't think Hal was all that bright, I mean he looked like steroids might have done something to his brain, but I'm pretty sure that Ranger had mandatory random drug tests so it was doubtful that he did drugs... Then again, Ranger hired some weird dudes. Maybe he hired the guys and just liked to know what they were taking, and didn't really care that they were using so long as it didn't interfere with their work?

Either way, here we were, in the middle of nowhere with a Budding Bundy and a few minutes to kill.

"Are you sure?" He said, "You look like you've been out here for a while and it's hot today. You don't want a nice cold drink? I've got some water in the back of my truck."

"Nope, I'm good."

"Well at least get in, and enjoy the AC," he said.

"Hal?" I turned to Hal, and he walked over, yanked the truck door open, and hauled out my would be serial killer. He held Bundy up by the front of his shirt and looked him in the eye.

"It's been a bad day; she said no. Fuck. Off."

"I'm just trying to be helpful," he squeaked.

"Check his wallet," Hal said. Bundy's wallet was in his back pocket and I carefully pulled it out and opened it. His name was Chad Bistowe and we had a problem.

"Hal?"

"What?"

"He's got the driver's licenses of eight different brown haired women in here."

"Cuffs," Hal said. I grabbed the cuffs from the glove box and brought them back to Hal. He slapped the cuffs on Chad and dragged him to the back of the Jeep and shackled him to the floor. "I bet our gas is in the back of this asshole's truck under that tarp." I climbed into the back of the truck and moved the tarp to see a box that made my hair stand on end. It was like a person sized box, in the back of the truck. A weird noise came from inside that box as I got closer. It sounded like scratching "Um Hal? I think there's someone or something in this box."

"Fuck," he said, "Is it locked?"

"Yup."

He went to the trunk and grabbed the bolt cutters and brought them to me. I used them to unlock the padlock and with a gun ready, because who knows what the hell was going to come out of that box, I lifted the lid, and it felt like I was pealing off the lid to a giant rubber sealed sandwich container. I figured out why when the ripe smell of foot odor came out of the trunk, making my eyes water. What was inside the box were shoes. Lots and lots of women's right shoes. What the fuck? The pile of shoes moved and I took a step back. Why were the shoes moving? It was reminding me a lot of the trash compactor scene in Star Wars, and if that was a snake… No… it wouldn't be snake, it would be something else, because why would it be a simple snake?

Hal peaked into the trunk just as a big orange and black striped beetle crawled out of a shoe. Then another one out of another shoe. "I think… I want to put this lid back on, and let the authorities deal with this."

"Uhhh huh," Hal said, as more bugs emerged, the pile of shoes shifted again. I quickly shoved the lid on, when a herd of them started climbing up the side of the box, like something out of a horror movie.

"How the fuck does this shit happen to you?" Now I've been asked that question a million times, but never by Ranger before. He didn't sound surprised, or particularly angry, just genuinely curious.

"I don't know," I said, "This is what happens when I come out here."

"Babe, this shit happens to you everywhere," he said.

"I keep your life interesting," I said.

"I couldn't exactly say that my life was dull before you came along," he said.

"Well you signed up for this mister," I said, "So no bitching."

"I'm not bitching," he said. "I'm just voicing my curiously."

"What the hell took you so long?"

"I was literally as far away from you as I could get and still be within city limits. I got stuck in rush hour traffic and you were in no immediate danger. There's Park Ranger station not far from you. If the situation looked like it was about to change, or you started wigging out I had them on standby."

It was in fact the Park Rangers that showed up first, followed closely by the State Police. Chad, as it turned out, spotted Hal and I while we were at Forest the Candle Guy's place, and he liked my Keds. So while we were in the next place, he siphoned the gas from the Jeep leaving us with just enough to get us into the middle of nowhere before we ran out. When we ran out of gas, he waited until I started to get antsy before he pounced, because he figured I'd be willing to get in the truck with him, if he promised me AC and water.

I warned the police about the bugs in the big shoe coffin, and one of them made me describe the beetle. I did and he groaned, "This is going to turn out to be really gross." He opened the box and grabbed a shoe, and then quickly closed the lid again. Ranger handed him a big ziplock and he shook out the contents of the shoe, what came were a few beetles, some small bones.

"Ummm?" I said.

"Yeah, we're going to be a while. You're going to have to come back and give a statement, but we're not going to be ready for you, for a long time."

Hal went back to Rangeman in the Jeep and I rode with Ranger but not before I transferred a case of water and a box of the protein bars, into the trunk of his Porsche. He was grinning when I did it. I still wasn't taking any chances.

We were on the 206 when I asked him what the hell he was doing all the way across town.

"Learning about forging metal. The residue was from a wax that can be used as part of a metal casting process called lost wax casting. Using a 3D printer he probably printed the barrel, in the wax and used it to vacuum cast the gun barrel. Using this method, the wax is destroyed as is the plaster mold after each casting. So it's a one off process, and there is no evidence after you're finished making the barrel, besides the barrel itself."

"So he prints a gun out of this wax too, so it can easily be destroyed, makes his barrel, and then all he has to get rid of when he's done with it, is a what looks like a metal rod that can be anything."

"If he's metal casting, he can melt the barrel down when he's done with it and nobody would be the wiser."

"So we're looking for people who own a metal foundry. Perfect, how many of them can there be?"

"Including people who do it as a hobby?" Ranger said, "No way to tell, they don't have to register them."

"Okay well what about 3D printer sales, can we track those?"

"Some," Ranger said, "But it's probably not going to help us, because if I were to do this, I'd steal the printer so there was no record of sale."

"Or pay cash," I said.

"They are expensive, people would remember you paying cash," Ranger said.

"But there'd be a record of the theft."

"Do you want to know exactly how I would do it?"

"Yeah," I said.

"I'd go out of state and wait outside of a place that sells the one I want, and follow someone who bought a printer, find out where they lived and wait a few days."

"Why?"

"It's a new toy that they are going to play with right away; if the damn thing doesn't work, it's not like I can take it back to the store."

"That's my guy, super practical."

"That's me," he said, "Once I knew it worked, I would break in, do a smash and grab, steal it with a bunch of other shit, drop the shit I didn't need at a landfill. And then I've got a brand new 3D printer and probably all the manuals and packaging too. The cops will look for a while but it's not the kind of job that would have a lot of man hours put on it, and they aren't going to look out of state for a simple B&E."

"And if they start questioning other people with new printers, in the area, you're not going to get swept up in that."  
He nodded.

"This is scary, Ranger. I mean this pretty much means that anyone can make their own guns. Easily, with no way to trace them."

He nodded, "Yep."

"So it's possible that we're never going to be able to prove it," I said, "How accurate is the casting process."

"If you leave a fingerprint in the wax it'll show up in the casting, so pretty accurate, but there will be imperfections."

"We need to fill Joe in on some things."

He nodded.

"Have you picked up Joyce yet?"

"Nope, tonight."

"Okay," I said, "I was going to grab a drink with Mary Lou after her kids went to bed."

"Joyce won't be ready for questioning for a while. If you can avoid getting plastered, we can do it when you get back."  
"Well what's my curfew?" I asked with a laugh.

"I'll let you know when we have Joyce," he said, "You're going to have to take Tank with you, Santos is still in New York, and everyone else is busy."

"Including you?"

"Do you really want me watching your back while you're talking to Mary Lou about all of the girlie shit you're going to talk about? Pretty hard to talk about me if I'm there."

"What makes you think I'm going to talk about you?"

"Babe."

Okay fine, we absolutely would be talking about him. Probably a lot. Mary Lou was going to want the full low down on Florida, and she knew how to get it out of me too. We grabbed some take out from Pinos on the way back and it was a little after eight and I was just out of the shower, when Mary Lou called.

I met her at a sports bar that was having a ladies' night, and after I told her about FLorida, I told her about the whole mess we were dealing with, with grandma.

"You know who you should talk to?" She said.

"Who?" I asked.

"Remember Natalie Brahms, from high school? She was like two years behind us, had that brother in Morelli's year who kept trying to get Morelli suspended, but kept winding up in detention instead?"

"Skinny kid, with coke bottle glasses?" I said.

"That's one," she said, "Nattie, works at this beauty parlor that is a favorite of the wise's guy's mistresses. She hears everything, you wanna talk gossip, we talk to her. She'll be able to tell you how everything is connected because she hears all of the pillow talk."

"Can you introduce me?"

"I'll call her, she's probably looking for an excuse to get out of her brother's house anyway. He has nine kids, the place is always like feeding time at the damned zoo."

"What's she doing there?"

"Economy is tough right now, she's renting a room in his basement until she's got the dough to get her own place."

Nattie showed up, with big eighties style crimped hair, and pink eye makeup with matching pink lips. She was wearing a pink spandex dress, and a big purple sequined belt. Mary-Lou was about to comment when Nattie held up a hand, indicating that she shouldn't ask.

"Don't start until I've got a drink in me. Fuck. I pay money to live in that damned room, I should have to participate in Amelia's fucking themed game nights. My poor hair, that crimper is like thirty years old, and I think it melted chunks of hair. Next time she comes in to the beauty parlor I'm going to get Luca to accidentally botch her bangs."

I looked at Mary-Lou who made the introduction. "Steph's working for Vinnie now; does investigations and stuff. Someone is out to get him and apparently he's pissed off some guy named WB?"

"WB?" Nattie said, "Officially WB is on everybody's shit list. Unofficially half the Dons are trying to figure out who this mook is so they can shake his hand and talk alliances. All anybody can do is get in with his underboss. A guy named Alphonso Lupo. You probably know him if you work for Vinnie, he does freelance work for Harry."

"How does Harry feel about that?"

"Harry is pissed about that," Nattie said, "He's being hit the hardest by this WB. Whoever this guy is, he's not happy with Harry, wants his organization taken down, and according to Cookie, Harry's newly minted _former_ mistress, he knows a lot of shit about Harry's organization, to the point he and Nicky have been doing some serious spring cleaning lately. Harry's so damned paranoid that he's trusting nobody but Nicky, because it would be a cold day in hell before Nicky flipped on Harry right? It's why Cookie got the ole heave ho. He let her down gently she says, told her that he was getting rid of anything incriminating that he's probably told her about, and he's kicked her to the curb so she has plausible deniability about his operations."

"Any idea why WB is pissed at Vinnie?"

"Probably caught up in the same shit as Harry."

"We have reason to believe it's personal."

"I'll ask around," Nattie said, "And I'll give you a call, if I hear anything."

"You're not afraid people are going to come looking at you for information?"

"Honey, even if I were to go to the police, any shit I hear isn't admissible in court. Most of the shit I hear is information obtained by someone talking to someone's cousin's, nephew's best friend's sister. Sure I hear a lot, but all a lawyer has to do is tell a jury to play the telephone game with something I've said, and somehow WB whacked so and so, because he owed him money, and it turns into Bugs bunny hates bananas, and they toss my testimony."

"Do you want to make a little extra cash?" I asked.

"Fuck yeah," she said.

"Can you come around tomorrow afternoon and sit with my assistant, we're trying to figure out these lynch pins. You might make things go faster."

"Sure," she said with a shrug, "Just tell me when and where sweetheart."

"So what's with the getup?" Mary Lou asked. "80's night?"

"No, my sister in law spent all damned month making David Bowie trivial pursuit questions, and tonight is Bowie night at the house. She threatened me with eviction if I didn't submit to this fucking travesty." She gestured to her hair and makeup. "I don't even want to talk about the outfit she had me in. It was going to take too long to fix this mess, so I figured I'd embrace it by raiding mom's closet. She hasn't thrown anything out since the seventies."

Mary Lou then told Nattie that I knew Sally and she started waxing poetic about how awesome Sally was, and if she could just get an interview with him, she'd convince him to give her a job. A phone call later and our little party expanded to include Lula and Sally. Sally declared Nattie 'totally fucking rad,' and offered her a job if she promised him access to her mother's closet.

At around midnight Ranger texted to let me know Joyce was at Rangeman and I had to bail. Lula had insisted that she wasn't going to be one of those moms who stopped having a life because she was pregnant, and was sleeping with her face on a napkin on an empty plate of nachos. There was no napkin to begin with, but Mary Lou, being the motherly type, figured Lula probably didn't want salsa mixing with her makeup, and she and Sally arranged to make her a pillow of sorts out of paper napkins.

I woke her up and told her I was bailing in order to give her an excuse to come home with me. She flat out refused because she was out to party, and she promptly went back to sleep on her plate. Sally promised to get her home soon, and I left them, to go talk to Joyce.  
I went back out to the car, spinning my keys on the ring on my hand. Thinking. Would Ranger have done the same thing in Williams' shoes, if he disappeared and came back to find me knocked up with Joe's kid, and married. He might have, but then again, he wouldn't have ditched me the way Williams ditched grandma.

And why wouldn't anyone tell grandma that they found the judge's killer? Wouldn't that have made front page news? Tank was sitting in the car, looking bored out of his skull. I got into the car with him. "What's with Lu?" He asked.

"She has a parasite," I said. Technically not a lie. I just didn't want to be the one to tell him she was knocked up.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot," he said, starting the car.

"If Ranger left because he was in trouble, and he didn't tell me where he was going, and he came back to find me knocked up and married to Joe. Would he just not bother telling me he was back. Like before Ranger and I were married."

"It would never happen," Tank said, "No way you would let him get away with just taking off. You'd track him down. In fact you'd be the biggest pain in the ass living until he came back. But say by some fluke you had married Morelli, he would have respected the ring, but he'd have still had your back."

"You're right, I would have been a pain in the ass, and if I married Joe, I wouldn't let him rest either until he cleared Ranger's name. So why didn't grandma?"

"She ain't you," Tank said. "She was ready to settle down. You and Ranger, you married but you ain't settled. Look at you, one of your best friends is knocked up and you freaked out about holding a pregnancy test in case it's contagious? You're not settled down."

"How do you know about that?"

"She told me. Called me from the hospital freaking the fuck out after her little fainting spell. Had me buy her a fucking million pregnancy tests because she don't trust the doctors."

"How do you feel about that?" I asked.

"I ain't the father if that's what you're askin'"

"You're not?"

"Nope," he said. "Got snipped a few years back, and I never go anywhere without a raincoat. I'd have to have some pretty damned determined swimmers to knock someone up."

"Okay, so how do you feel about it?" I asked, "Are you okay?"

"We're casual; she can sleep with who she wants. I sleep with who I want. Sometimes we want each other. Most of the time we drive each other fucking nuts. Kids aren't my thing, but I'll step up and help out when she needs it, and she knows that."

That actually sounded… healthy. I was kind of bummed though because I liked the idea of Tank as a dad. We pulled into the garage and he parked the car in maintenance bay. "Hey if you knew what was up with Lula, why did you ask?"

"She was sleeping on Nachos; I wanted to make sure she was okay," he said, "You're gonna want to go down to the sub basement."

"Are you coming?"

"Nope."

I pressed the down button on the elevator. "You know who the father is, don't you?" I asked.

"Yep."

"I thought so," I said. I didn't bother asking who it was. It was killing me, but Lula would tell me when she was ready. Tank fobbed open the stairwell.

"You're a good friend, Bomber."

I went down to the basement and saw Ranger waiting for me in the hall with Ram. Ram looked like he wanted a shower, and he looked a bit drunk actually. He was on duty tonight, and if he was drunk, Ranger was going to kick his ass into next Tuesday.

"What the hell?" I asked.

"He took one for the team," Ranger said, and turned to Ram, "Go sleep it off."

"I want hazard pay," he grumbled. Something he would not have done in front of Ranger if he weren't shit faced.

"What'd he do?" I asked.

"He picked her up at a bar. Joyce being questioned by one of us, could get her killed. Joyce getting picked up at a bar? Hardly unusual."  
I looked into the interrogation room, at Joyce, who looked, in a word, pissed. I took the picture of Williams from Ranger and walked into the lion's den.

"This is fucking kidnapping!" she shrieked, and I shoved my finger in my ear to stop the sudden onset of tinnitus.

"This is getting information from you, without getting you fucking killed. You may be the only witness to the contract for Arthur Wylitt's murder and the guy hired to do the hit has eluded capture for sixty years. He doesn't leave living witnesses."

I slid a picture of William's from the dash cam, across the table to Joyce, "That the old man?"

"No," she said, "Can I go?"

"Think Joyce, what did this guy look like? He's got mafia connections…"

"This is Trenton, we all got 'em," she said.

"Scary ones. Ones that are making Harry shit his pants."

She stood up and started pacing, looking a little like a feral animal. "He was bald, with like liver spots on his head and he had a lot of wrinkles, and a shitty tattoo on his left hand."

"What was the tattoo of?"

"No fucking clue, it was all wrinkled to shit and he hadn't maintained it, so it was just a grey blob."

"Was this guy there?" I tapped the picture.

"No," Joyce said.

"Do you know who Merlin's girlfriend was? Someone named Becky?"

"No, the only one I know who was hot and heavy with Merlin for a while was Lucille."

"Lucille?" I asked.

"Yeah, you know Vinnie's wife?"

 _AN: I know it's a cliffie, sorry. And I know it's a bummer about Tank not being the baby daddy, but don't worry. I have it all figured out and I hope you like it!_


	15. Chapter 15

"Lucile?" I repeated, completely dumbfounded.

"Yeah," she said, "Lucile. Perfect, goodie two shoes, Lucile. She got tired of Vinnie stepping out and decided to get her freak on with Magic Mike."

"Good for her," I said.

"He ended it though. Probably because he realized how fucking annoying she is."

"When?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said, "I wasn't paying attention. A while back, she went to go backstage after the show and his partner wouldn't let her back and said Merlin was entertaining someone else. Didn't see her at a show after that. Can I go now?"

"Yeah," I said. "Someone will take you home."

I walked out of the room. Hector was waiting with a set of keys, waiting to give Joyce a lift. He would be immune to her charms, and she'd be too scared of him to be a pest. He walked her out of the room and I looked at Ranger.

"We have to talk," I said.

I told him about my conversation with Nattie in the bar, about how Harry is getting screwed. "Harry is heavily invested in the Bonds Office and taking it down would fuck with Harry large. Not to mention it would hurt his daughter and that's a sure fire way to hurt Harry. Plus taking out Wylitt, is like, double the pain for her," I said.

"But she wasn't seeing him anymore."

"Well maybe WB doesn't know that part. His information is really good but that doesn't mean it's perfect."

"What were you doing in the Barrens today?" he asked completely changing the subject.

"I didn't say?"

"No," he said.

I told him about my visit with Valtieri, "So now that we know Williams isn't Chimera, do I keep trying to find him, or let it go?"

"I think I start looking into things on that end, now," Ranger said.

"Why?"

"Because now I need to know if the reason you caught the attention of that creep was a means of distracting you from your reason for being out there, or if it was a means of getting rid of you without getting his hands dirty. Williams wouldn't do that, but Chimera would."

"Or it's the Barrens and weird shit happens out there," I said with a shrug.

"I don't like the coincidence. Who did you talk to?"

I told him. He motioned for me to follow him, and we went up to the garage and got into his car. We were going back out to the Barrens. Damn. The good news was that the supplies were still in the truck and if I were going to get lost with Ranger, well there are worse things in the world.

It was getting close to two in the morning and I was fully aware of the fact that I had to pry Lula out of bed to get her across town to the doctor, in a few hours. A fact I informed Ranger of. He bypassed the couple with the pie and the tv contract and went to the candle maker. Ranger killed the lights on the turbo and coasted down the driveway. He handed me a gun and he got out of the car, with me following. He made short work of the lock on the barn that served as the store for Forest. What had been a hopping operation that morning was gone. All that was left was a single card table and on it an absolutely beautiful candelabra…and a greeting card.

Ranger put on a pair of gloves and picked up the card. It was a schmaltzy congratulations on your marriage type card. Scrawled at the bottom, in elegant calligraphy, was a three word message addressed to Ranger.

 **_Enjoy_** **_your_** **_gift_**.

Underneath it was the same sticker that was on the bottom of the beer bottle that Lunch Box attacked. Ranger pulled an evidence bag from his cargos and dropped the card in it. "You're not worried he's still here?"

"No," Ranger said.

He took the candles off of the candelabra one at a time and used his knife to scrape some of the wax from the bottom of each of them, into separate baggies. Then he carefully unhooked the dozens of flower shaped crystals that were dangling from the ornate branches of the unit. I was willing to bet they were worth a fortune. The reason for the disassembly was clear when he turned it upside down and unscrewed the main post from the branches and he shone his flashlight inside. He tipped it upside down again and a long metal tube fell out.

"If we fired a bullet through this, how much do you want to bet that the ballistics would match your grandmother's gun?"

"And the wax will match the residue you pulled from the spent round."

Ranger nodded. "What did your friend Forest look like?"

"White, and he spoke like he's had a two pack a day habit for years. It was all raspy. He had brown eyes, about my height. White hair."

"Unremarkable?" Ranger asked.

"Pretty much," I said, "I can sit down with Hector and his sketch program, if you want."

"No," Ranger said, "Not yet. We need to speak to Williams."

"That was the whole point of this adventure this afternoon, and we got bupkis."

"It shouldn't be too difficult to trace Williams now that we know he isn't Chimera."

"Should we check the house?" I asked.

"I strongly doubt there will be anything there," Ranger said. "He left the evidence he wanted us to find."

"I know but, everyone makes mistakes and he's old. He's probably not as sharp as he once was."

Ranger shrugged and we went to the house. I tried the back door only to find it locked. The lock looked old, like it took a skeleton type key old. Now normally locks just fall open when Ranger looks at them and I was expecting him to unlock the door so we could get in, instead he handed me the pick set.

"Dude, I don't know how to do this," I said, "I can barely do a modern lock."

He opened the little leather folder, "Nothing like learning on the job."

"Ranger!"

He handed me one of the larger tension wrenches and a pick that looked like a hook, "This is actually easier than a modern lock. Stick the wrench in like it's a key and turn it to the right."

I did as I was told, grumbling under my breath about having to do this shit, in the Barrens where it was more than likely the lock was booby trapped or some shit. "Stick the hook in, don't let go of the tension on the wrench. Feel around for the pin and push up. It'll click. Do that until you can't find anymore pins. You don't have to finesse this one." Clearly he wasn't as worried about boobytraps as I was. I found four pins and when the last one clicked Ranger turned the knob and the door opened.

"Well fuck me," I said, absolutely astonished. There was no way I did that on the first try. Like no way!

"Later," Ranger said. He hauled me to my feet and we went inside the house. It smelled like bleach. Lots and lots of bleach.

There was absolutely nothing in the house either. I mean nadda. The wallpaper showed marks that pictures used to hang on the walls. The old wood floors creaked as we walked across them. There were wear marks on the floor so it was easy to see where furniture used to be arranged. There had clearly been an area rug in front of the old fireplace in t he living room.

The kitchen was just as spotless, just as empty. It had old pine cabinets with pink floral shelf paper that was just peeling up a little in the corners. There was another locked door, and I went to take the picks from Ranger and he shook his head. "Let me clear the rest of the house first."

He double checked that I was still carrying, and he went up the stairs to clear the other rooms. He wasn't gone long, the basement was just a small crawl space with a dirt floor. "It doesn't look like it's been disturbed in a long time. We're not going to bother digging up the floor unless we have to," he said.

"And by 'we' you mean you and one of your merry men, because I have to take Lula to a doctor's appointment at the ass crack of dawn."

I tried the lock again and it felt different, "Ranger, problem."

He took the picks from me and tried. "Yeah, this will drive you fucking crazy and take a million years for you to figure out." He pulled out a different pick and it took him about six minutes to open the lock. That's a long time for him.

"Tricky one?" I asked.

"No, just time consuming," he said. Turning the knob on the door. We looked around the room and Ranger did his equivalent of a sigh. Locked door, waste of damned time. There was nothing in the room. Not a damned thing. What the hell was the point of locking an empty fucking room?

The smell of bleach was stronger in this room so Ranger turned on the light and we walked around to see if there was anything. There's something creepy about an empty old house. Especially when everything in it creaks and squeaks and it's located in the most fucked up area in the world. The wind blew and the room moaned and now I was thinking about ghosts. A door banged and I jumped and ran across the room and hid behind Ranger.

He wasn't at all concerned about the banging door. Ghosts were probably afraid of Ranger, not the other way around. "Walk back across the room," he said.

"Nope."

"Stephanie, if there was anyone else in the house we'd hear them. This place is fucking loud."

"You're failing to take into account the ghosts that probably live here."

"Babe."

I sighed and walked back across the floor. I was halfway through the room when he had me stop. "What?"

"Come back and walk again a little to the left."

"Are we square dancing now? Because I think you're using the wrong terminology. I think you're looking for me to promenade or dosey doe."

"Just move your ass, Babe."

I walked back to him and did as he asked. I made it to the center of the room and a chill ran down my spine. I knew what his problem was. The floor squeaked everywhere but in the middle of the room. Without being asked I walked the length of the room radiating out from the squeakless area. There was a two foot wide by five foot six squeak free section in the middle of the room.

"How tall was Forest?"

"About five six," I said. Ranger walked over to the floor and examined the nail marks on the floor boards around the area I'd identified.

"These nails aren't new, but they've been newly hammered into the boards. See how they are just a little shinier than the others?"

"Are we calling Morelli?"

"For a couple of replaced floor boards in a house we've broken into?"

"Well now what do we do?"

"We pull up the floor boards and if we find something, we call the police."

"And how the fuck do we explain why we decided to pull up the floor boards, in a house we've broken into?"

"We don't," he said, "We do this carefully and we do it without leaving trace evidence. If we find something, we put everything back exactly the way we found it and we call the police and leave an anonymous tip."

"What about our wedding present?"

"We leave it," Ranger said, "We leave all of it."

"And if there's nothing, we take the damn thing home."

"Pretty much."

We went out to the car and we dressed in paper coveralls, shower caps and rubber gloves. It took us an hour to get the nails out of the boards, we only needed to lift two, and sure enough we uncovered Forest. He was lying there, his old face in a content smile like he was sleeping, and in his hands he was holding an envelope addressed to me and Ranger. Ranger took the envelope and put it in his pocket without reading it. We replaced the boards, which took another hour, and we cleaned up any evidence we might have left behind.

On the way back to Trenton, I called Joe. I pinched my nose making my voice more nasally and I tried to lower it. "I'd like to report something suspicious?"

I could almost hear the eye roll that accompanied Joe's sigh. "What?"

"Well I think it's possible there is a body under the dining room floor of Forest the Candlemaker's house."

"Where are you?"

"Somewhere in the Pine Barrens."

"Uhhuh. Any particular reason you might suspect there is a body under the floor of a house in the middle of fucking nowhere?"

"Gut feeling. And maybe the guy that probably put it there is really creepy, and the type to hide a body under the floor of his dining room before cleaning house."

"Thanks. Now unofficially? And drop the stupid voice Cupcake."

"You used to be more fun," I said, still using the voice.

"No I wasn't; I was just trying to get into your pants. Now would you quit it? You sound like your mother if she were stoned and on helium."

"I was trying to lower my voice," I said now dropping the voice.

"Yeah, it didn't work," Joe said.

"Unofficially I know for a fact you're going to find a body under the floorboards of the dining room."

"Do I know this person?"

"His name is Forest and he sells candles."

"You're a pain in the ass. Don't tell me anymore I don't wanna know."

He hung up and I looked at Ranger who was expressionless as he drove back to the city. He reached into his pocket and produced the letter. He handed it to me and I read it out loud.

"WB's men are loyal as long as there's money. Anyone of them will turn on a dime especially if the money runs out. He's a loose canon and an amateur. I've burned my bridges by not taking out Wylitt, I'm done here. Tell Williams we're even. Don't feel too badly for Forest. He was dying anyway. He went with dignity."

There was a chimera sticker on the bottom of the page and I wondered if we could actually trace him through the stickers. I mean someone had to make them. I said as much to Ranger.

"I did trace them once," Ranger said, "He ordered five thousand of them from a party company, about thirty years ago. No surveillance video, no description, the girl who sold them to him died ten years ago."

"Well crap."

"Exactly," Ranger said.

When we got back to the apartment Ranger took the letter away to be processed, I went to go die. I was tired and I had maybe an hour left where I could sleep before I had to get up and go take Lula to the doctor. It was the shortest hour ever. The good news was, I hadn't taken my clothes off to go to bed, so all I did was wrestle my hair into a freshish ponytail, brush my teeth and I left the apartment. I'd woken up alone so it was a pretty good bet Ranger hadn't been to bed yet.

I went downstairs to get the caffeine infused tarlike nectar that Hector called coffee, and thus fortified, and with all the windows down, I drove to Lula's. She wasn't kidding when she said she was a deep sleeper now. It was like working with a truculent toddler zombie trying to get her to do anything. She'd gone to bed wearing a pair of emoji stretch pants and a bra. So I found a yellow t shirt in her closet, and wrestled her into it and propelled her out to the car. She whined most of the way, and i'm pretty sure she didn't wake up fully, considering she was snoring between complaints.

We got to the clinic and she came around enough to be the picture of bitchiness, because I smelled like something resembling coffee and that made her want to puke. We made it to the reception area of the clinic and Lula was starting to look a little green. She kept letting out these tiny little burps that when you're drunk you know are the previews of your impending conversation with the porcelain gods. The receptionist handed me the clipboard and pen. I handed it to her and she took the lid off. The pen was scented to smell like chemical blueberries and that was it. Lula was gonna toss her cookies. The receptionist saw this and hurried her back to the bathroom, and made soothing noises as Lula threw up loud enough for everyone in the building to hear.

I filled out Lula's information for her and I brought the clipboard back to the desk. I put it down and next to Lula's brand new file were the files for other patients that would be in that day. I genuinely, accidentally bumped the stack and there in those funky rainbow tabulated letters, was the name Plum, Lucile.

It occurred to me that about the only things Joyce and Vinnie agreed upon when they spoke about when they saw each other last, was that Joyce and Lucile had the same gynecologist. There was an easy way, to corroborate another part of their story, I could just check to see if the appointment times matched what they said. I walked around the desk and keeping an ear out for Lula's puking, rather than try to figure out the computer, I went to the wall of files, found Joyce's file and crammed it in my bag.

I grabbed my phone and using the video option and keeping my eye on the door, I turned each page of Lucile's file, recording to read later, and put everything back the way it should be on the desk. I finished and was back in my seat just in time for the doctor to come in. "Hello, are you Lula?" She asked.

She was probably only a couple of years older than I was, with long strawberry blonde hair, a face full of freckles, and the tan of someone who spent a lot of time outside. "No, I'm Stephanie Manoso," I said.

Just then Lula wretched loudly again. "She's been using the scented pens again hasn't she?" The doctor said with a sigh. She walked back towards the sounds of Lula puking and I left to go use the other washroom in the corridor. I took Joyce's file out of my bag and read through the most recent pages. There was a note about recent sexual intercourse. The recent was underlined several times and there was a post-it saying that if Joyce had a gentleman in the examination room with her again, the door needed to be opened until the doctor came to conduct her appointment.

So Vinnie lied about playing hide the salami with Joyce. There was a further note that Joyce was to be billed for the cost of a new speculum. I threw up in my mouth a little. I really didn't want to know what they did with the speculum.

I closed the file and put it back in my bag, more than a little traumatized. I guess I asked for that, I shouldn't have opened that particular Pandora's uhhh box. I went back to the waiting room and waited for another moment where I could return Joyce's file. It presented itself when the receptionist went back in to the examination room and with a fresh box of latex gloves. I ran around the desk and saw a stack of folders to be refiled, and I shoved Joyce's somewhere in the middle.

I quickly walked back around the desk and grabbed a brochure at random and pretended I was there to read that, when the receptionist came back out. The flyer was for a fertility clinic. "Huh," I said.

"What?"

"Why do you advertise for another fertility clinic? Is it because the doctor is so slammed with patients?"

"Oh no, she doesn't do fertility treatments here. Doctor Stein is good though. She refers all her patients who are having trouble to him."

"So he does the treatments and she does the follow ups?"

"No. Doctor Stein does high risk patients too, so he usually does all of the follow up until about twenty weeks. If mom and baby seem healthy then he sends them back here."

"I'm not really sure I like my doctor anymore. I mean he's the same man that my grandmother saw while she was still able to pop out kids. It's kind of creepy. I don't suppose she does depo shots here?"

"Yep," the receptionist said. She handed me a pamphlet of offered services and I took it back to my seat, now itching to read Lucile's file. She was lying to Vinnie, or Vinnie was lying to me. Maybe they were just pretending to make babies because there was pressure from Harry? Or, maybe Vinnie genuinely thought they were trying to have a kid and Lucile didn't want to spawn with the devil.

I really needed to know what the hell was going on. Lula came out before I had a chance to attempt to read the file on my phone. She was looking much better. "Now I want you to get a lot of fluids, eat dry carbohydrates, and I want you to come back next week. If you've lost weight, I'm going to put you on something."

Lula nodded. She booked and appointment for a week later. We left and I kept my excitement to myself. We were about Lula now. We looked at four different houses in different neighborhoods the last one I totally vetoed as we turned into the driveway following the real estate agent. It was Vinnie and Joyce's neighbourhood. "This here's got the best school, and it's the house Sally liked best online."

"Oookay," I said, "But don't say I didn't warn you."

We went inside and it was clear why she was in love. It was all brilliant primary colours and instead of tile or brick around the big fireplace in the living room, there was a Betty (of Archie fame) glass mosaic.

"Holy Macaroni!" I said when I saw it.

"It's so much cooler in real life!" Lula said. Yeah sure, and there was absolutely no way I could ever convince Ranger that something even remotely resembling this, would be cool in our house. I left Lula to explore with her agent and out of curiosity I went to ring the doorbell. Sweet Child of Mine. Holy appropriate, Batman.

I went outside, the whole house a little bit of sensory overload for me, and sat on the unassuming front step. The exterior of the house was kind of like what you would picture Little Red Riding Hood's grandma's house might look like. Only on Steroids. It was stone with a cedar shake roof and it was absolutely charming and totally enormous. Tt had been on the market for a while too. At least a year. I knew why now. Betty probably had something to do with it.

Charlie drove by on his Bike and saw me on the steps and stopped. "Are you thinking of moving in to the neighbourhood?"

"Nope, my friend is. She's having a baby so she needs out of her little apartment. I'm just the wheels this morning."

"I don't suppose you've seen Miss Joyce this morning have you?"

"No, why?"

"She said she'd come by to take Electra to school but she never showed up."

"No?" I asked, "That's a bit strange."

"I thought so too," Charlie said.

"How did you meet Joyce?" I asked.

"She came to my house with a nice welcome basket when I moved in a few months back."

"You should know," I said, "She doesn't know you're gay."

"Who says I'm gay?" Charlie asked, truly bemused.

"Electra," I said.

"No, I mean I guess I'm bi. I dated a guy for a while but he's the only guy. I'm more into women."

"Oh so then you and Joyce are a possibility then," I said.

"Maybe," he said, "I dunno. She's got a nice ass, but I don't think Electra likes her, and the kid's more important right?"

"Absolutely."

He drove off and I decided to take a stroll to Joyce's house. I rang her doorbell and got nothing, remembering my skills from the night before, I pulled out my lock picks and then called Ranger because I remember him saying he was putting a man on her.

"She did go to pick up the kid and got doused with a bucket of flower and what looked like a glass of fruit punch. She stormed off yelling about how no man is worth that kind of trouble and she's spending the day at a spa in New York," Ranger said.

"Why didn't we have sex last night?"

"Because I had some work to do. I wasn't even aware you had bothered going to bed."

"I want to find it again soon, but I'm toughing it out. I figure if I'm ever going to develop normal human sleep patterns I'm going to have to stay awake this afternoon."

"Normal is overrated Babe," he said, "Take a nap."

I went back to Lula's house and she was on the phone to Sally, and they were going to make an offer. Since this was going to take a while, Lula said Sally was going to pick her up and she'd catch me later. I drove back to Rangeman, exhausted but weirdly awake. Maybe it was Hector's coffee. I went to my office instead of my bed and tossed my phone at Minnie, who had basically turned the office into a giant spiderweb of interconnected cases, and there was a cup of Hector's sludge on the desk.

I looked closer at Minnie and he was looking just a little manic. "Okay so how many of these have you had?" I pointed to the cup.

"Dunno, it's good fucking shit. What's in that?"

"Coffee, and possibly black tar heroine. Have you been to bed yet?"

"It's only midnight. I'm good…"

"Okay Carlos we're on a whole new day now, it's noon. Go to bed."

"No no, I think I have this figured out."

"I think you're having a psychotic break."

I marched him out of my office and up to his apartment. I made him sit on the sofa and I handed him some water and a banana. I've played this game before. I remember, he was about to crash and this combo would help with the shakes. Hector's coffee should be a controlled substance. He ate the banana and drank the water, and then he more or less passed out on his sofa.

I walked out of his apartment and was on my way back down to my office when Ella met me on the way to the elevator. She holding my present from grandma.

"I was just going to take this down to your office!" She said, "I wondered if you would mind if I used the box? Ranger's cousin Molly has had a bit of a rough week and I thought I'd do up a nice care package for her. This box is so pretty, and it's perfect."

"Of course," I said, "I'll put Wonder Woman on display and bring this back up to you. When do you need it?"

"No rush," she said, "We take a quilting class together on Fridays and I thought I'd deliver it then."

"Sure," I said. I carried the box downstairs and put it on my desk. I looked around at the string that was going everywhere and tried to see if I could follow Peter Parker's logic. He was onto something. Or he had started hallucinating. Either way, it would take me a fucking year to sort out what he may or may not have figured out. I decided that it would be easier to sort it out when Minnie was conscious, so I decided to read Lucile's file. Rather than bother Hector to sort out the pages I'd taken pictures of. I spent about five minutes pausing and taking a screen shot of each page. That done I synched my phone to my computer and while it was doing it's thing. I unpacked Wonder Woman. She did look super cool and I positioned her on my desk, next to my computer, then I began opening the accessories that went with her. It was a little creepy that you could change her head to change her facial expressions, so in the box there were about four little Diana Prince heads with no hair, because apparently that came off of the head, but she still looked badass. I put her lasso in her hands and I pulled the foam packing out of the box. As I pried it out, something popped out of the bottom and hit the floor, skittering under my desk.

"Fuck."

I got down on all fours and was reaching under my desk for it, found a Wonder Woman keychain, but it wasn't new Wonder Woman. It was vintage looking, and it was weirdly heavy. There was a what looked like a button near the key ring portion, and I was just about to press it when the computer went ding. I looked at the first page and stared.

Lucile was pregnant. She was about 11 weeks from the looks of the report. I scrolled through the pages and it would seem that the timing fit for it to have started during her affair with Merlin.

She'd even had an early paternity test done. The results of which did not match the sample she'd provided. So she wasn't sure who the dad was in the beginning. Interesting. I read deeper into the file. She'd discontinued her birth control about two months before the pregnancy test. Which wasn't unheard of, if they were trying to have a baby. She definitely didn't have fertility issues if she got knocked up that quickly. So why not tell Vinnie she was pregnant? Unless she knew Vinnie wasn't the father and his was the sample she provided. I'd have to ask him.

Still what was she going to do? Lie about how far along she is and then tell him it's premature? If that's the case, she watches too much TV. The pregnancy did make a lot of things make more sense though. She must have told Merlin she was pregnant after they broke up. That's why he was asking about paternity tests and how soon they could be done.

While I read, I fidgeted with the keychain, and my nail came into contact with the little button, I pressed it and pulled on the key chain. Out of the Fob came a USB drive.

"Whoa," I said. "Cool. Thanks grandma."

I plugged it in to my computer to transfer the pictures, so I could bring them up to Ranger. I went to copy them over when I saw that the drive wasn't empty. On it was a file type I didn't recognize, and a video file. I clicked on the video file, and immediately ejected the drive from my computer. I ran up the stairs to Ranger's office and pulled him away from his computer. I crammed the drive in and clicked on the file.

Up popped footage of Lucile, naked in bed, sharing what looked like a joint, with Merlin. Lucile handed him the blunt and got out of bed. "Don't be silly," Lucile said, pulling on a little black dress. "Vinnie is fucking clueless about everything. I told you, I just have to do one more thing and then I'm leaving him." Merlin got up and zipped her dress for her. She went into the bathroom and he sat down at the computer and turned off the camera.


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: Sorry about the hiatus! I was having writers block issues when it comes to this story. I'm almost done, only a couple of chapters left after this. Thanks for reading!**

"She was leaving Vinnie and they broke up, and…. She's pregnant, with Merlin's kid. I'm pretty sure."

"She's pregnant?" Ranger asked.

"Yeah, there's something in the water apparently."

"How do you know?"

"I stole her file from the gynaecologist's office this morning."

"Why?"

"I wanted to see if Vinnie was telling the truth about that last time he said he was with Joyce"

I told him about the morning.

He clicked on the other file on the drive and he got an error message. So he ejected the USB key and we took it down to Hector. Hector made a comment about it being cool and he plugged it into his computer. He muttered something about wasting his time when the damn thing has been with us the whole time, and then he plugged the key into the laptop he'd been trying to crack.

"Sorry?" I said.

"Ignore it," Ranger said. He'd helpfully translated Hector's grumblings. "He's probably due for a tranquilizer dart. He occasionally goes for a few days without sleep and begins to get angry at other people for having the audacity to breathe. Someone brave usually tranqs him for the safety of everyone.

"He's not going to cut me, is he?" I asked. Hector snorted. He totally spoke English, I was sure of it now. He wasn't even really hiding it anymore. He got the laptop open and it looked like any other home screen.

Only instead of program icons on the desktop, there were about a dozen file folders with different names on them. The top one said Barb. I opened it and there were a dozen video files. I opened the first one and was treated to Merlin's face.

"So the chick in this Video is Barb. She's pretty dope. Don't think I'm gonna need this, but safe sex is important right? Just in case someone finds these, the program I'm using to record is like, one I wrote. You can't put these videos on the internet, they won't load so like, don't try. Second, I'm not using these to get off later. Just some guys have been accused of some things lately and I'm just covering my ass."

He spun the camera so it faced the bed and he got up. He was naked, his wand at the ready and I gotta say, lucky grandma. He got into bed and two seconds later a woman about mom's age came out of the bathroom. I looked down at the time remaining on the video and the three hours was pretty impressive. We watched it at high speed because it was a bit awkward and at the end it was Merlin seeing Barb to the hotel room door, before he came back and shut the camera, down. Each video in Barb's file started with a similar message. We didn't bother watching the videos all the way through.

Each folder had a collection of videos, some only one or two, others like Barb's had about a dozen or so. They were organized by date, not alphabetically. Lucile's was the last. I was relieved that there were no Edna files. I didn't need to see that. Why would he have the video of Lucile on the jump drive for me to see when everything else was on the computer.

"So he's got these stacks of videos; is there anything else?" I asked.

Hector pressed a couple of keys and a bunch of files popped up. Most of them PDFs and some photos. The stuff you'd find on a personal computer from the looks of it. "So I guess I know how I'm spending the rest of my day. I don't know that I'm comfortable with the idea of someone else watching my cousin's wife getting busy with my step grandfather…. For the record, that didn't even sound right in my head."

I took the computer back to my desk and locked my door. I clicked on the first Lucile video. She was nervous about cheating on Vinnie. She said she'd never done it before. She said she'd only ever been with Vinnie before. Yeah I felt bad for her. Merlin was cool. He told her they didn't have to do anything she didn't want to do. They actually played cards and he showed her a couple of magic tricks with them. It was kind of sweet really. Then they started making out and there was the natural progression of them getting down. I skipped through a bunch of that. Until I realized that I missed important stuff, like conversation. So I shrunk the window, so it was just background noise and I started going through files. I found a thing from Ambrosius it looked like all his hacking stuff and it was beyond me.

" _I_ _can't believe we just did that!" Lucile giggled from my speakers._

 _"It was good Baby," he said, "Really good. Here, try this."_

 _"I don't smoke drugs."_

 _"This is MJ; it's not drugs. It'll just make you feel even more relaxed."_

 _"I don't know, what if Vinnie smells it on me?"_

 _"So what if he does?"_

 _"Good point," Lucile said, "What do I do?"_

Then followed a lesson in Dope smoking. And Lucile high is a little scary. She borrowed a vacuum from Housekeeping and made sure the entire place was completely free of dust. Merlin got really into it too and it was kind of funny, kind of disturbing, and I bet that hotel room was spotless when they were done. They had sex again, and she left, because she had to go home to Vinnie.

The next video was just the two of them going at it. Until near the end.

 _"He's totally screwing around again, and I heard him saying the other day that he was going to try to buy out Daddy so he can leave me."_

 _"Why are you even with him?"_

 _"Because we've been together since high school, and he's my husband. I just didn't think I would be okay without him."_

 _"He's gonna give you some disease. You could just leave him and come with me," he said._

 _"That would be nice," she said. "I dunno."_

 _"Think about it." Lucile went to get out of bed and pulled her back down. She apparently had to leave though because she pushed him away, laughing, and got out of bed._

This got me thinking, did he ask other women to come with him? Was this a thing he did a lot?

I called Herb rather than go through who knows how many hours of video to answer that question. "Hey, I asked. Did Arthur make a habit of inviting women on the tour?"

"Nope, Edna was the first that I know of."

"What about Becky?" I asked.

"No," Herb said, "Not that I know of. Why?"

"Just curious," I said. "I was wondering if it was like him to do what he did with grandma."

"He wasn't all that discriminating when it came to women. Like I said, he didn't get drunk very often, but waking up and finding himself married to Edna and deciding it was cool, that was in character. Besides, she baked us cookies and that's not something you complain about."

I hung up the phone. So Herb didn't know as much about Merlin as he thought and Merlin invited Lucile to come with him and then they broke up. Was it relevant? That was the question. I mean okay so Lucile had an affair on Vinnie, I can't honestly say I wasn't giving her props for it. From what I could see the man had game and he was packing a really big wand, so she was getting hers and she should. Vinnie was a prick.

What was that one thing she had to do first? That was my question. I found another video that was 8 hours long and I groaned. Holy crap. I scrolled down to the next one, same deal this one 12. Then another one that covered a whole 48 hours. Yowza this was going to take forever. I clicked out of Lucile's file and back up to the other ladies. Nobody else had videos as long as Lucile's nor as many of them. According to the the video the affair had been going on for a long time. Like we're talking two years. Wow.

I had all of the other information about the tour and it would seem they started booking way more New Jersey dates just after the time code on the 8 hour video. It wasn't because of increased revenue either. I went back again to the other girls, none of the dates overlapped with Lucile until the end of their relationship. She was definitely Becky. She had to be. I went back to the videos, if Merlin witnessed something, it was likely that Lucile had too. How much danger was she in now that I had this information? Who else knew?

I chewed on my lip and clicked on the next video, the eight hour video. It wasn't just sex, not by a long shot. They danced together, there was a lot of laughter and it wasn't stoned or drunk. When they got down to it, let's just say it was clear this wasn't some fling because she was pissed at Vinnie.

"Why didn't you just leave him?" I asked, her image on the screen. A lot of the video was of the two of them sleeping. Sleeping really close. Then she got out of bed and sat in front of the computer, completely unaware that the camera was rolling. She curled up in a little ball and started to cry, chewing her thumb nail. She reached for her cell phone and dialled a number.

" _Can_ you come get me? No… It's not Vinnie. I can't call him. I've really fucked up, Lucky. I'm at the Holiday Inn on I-77," she said. "Don't tell daddy."

She hung up, and started getting dressed, Merlin woke up. "You're just leaving?"

"I'm married!" She yelled, "I don't know why I came back, this was supposed to be a one time thing."

"I never said that," Merlin said.

"So you think I should just leave him for a Stripper? That's exactly what he would do. And I can't leave my family. I just can't. Not so I can follow you around to watch you…"

"Earn an honest living?" He retorted, "Fuck, Luce. I hardly ever dance anymore and if that's you're fucking problem, I'll stop altogether."

"I have to go," she said and she pulled on her sweater and left. Wow, okay this was starting to get addictive. I clicked on the next video.

Different hotel, a nicer one. Set up with candle. Serious romance and seduction going on here.

Lucile was back obviously and she was singing a different tune from when she left him the last time. I wonder what changed. Mostly the full 48 hours was sex, which I watched at super high speeds, the rest of the time they were sleeping also watched at super high speeds. At one point they were watching TV and he wanted to watch the Sopranos. "If I wanted to watch this shit, I'd just stay home." They got stoned and watched home decorating shows, and had more sex instead. When she left this time, he kissed her goodbye at the door. The next videos were more of the same. Then I got to one where Lucile was left alone in the room for a bit while he went to get food.

She waited until he was gone and picked up her purse and walked out the desk. She sat down, and after rifling around in her bag she pulled something out, that I couldn't see and then she picked up the phone. "Hey Tilly," she said, "No don't worry about it. Vinnie isn't here, what's up?" There was a long pause and she started writing stuff down. "No that's terrible; what a weasel! She tell you why? The bitch. I'll buy you lunch and we can figure out what to do next. It's okay, I know. It'll be okay." She hung up the phone. She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh and then she did something to the phone and picked it up. "It worked. Phase two."

She hung up just as Merlin walked into the hotel room with a bag from Pino's.

"I've got a cousin who is addicted to these subs from here. The marinara is fucking awesome," Lucile said.

"I totally was going to go to this other place but I could smell it from the street and couldn't resist."

They dug into meatball subs and that was it, except for more sex before she said she had to go. "What the hell?" I said to the computer.

"Find anything interesting?" I actually shrieked and put my hand over my heart, before glaring at Ranger.

"You've been drinking Hector's coffee again," Ranger said.

"Lucile was having a serious affair with Merlin. I mean a serious one. He spent more time with her than any other girl on here and I dunno I just saw something strange."

"Define strange?"

I showed him the phone call. He didn't say anything. "What was the thing in the purse?" I asked him, he frowned but shook his head. It was hard to see.

"She has to be Becky. But why call her that? Her middle name isn't Rebecca."

"There has to be a reason."

"There does."

"I am going to go talk to Lucile," I said.

"Watch the rest of the videos first. Know everything before you go over there so she can't lie to you."

I spent the rest of the day doing just that, with Ranger looking over my shoulder." Most of it was just lovey dovey crap, and she was just as much of a whiner with Merlin as she was with Vinnie. The only difference was she didn't nag Merlin. I mean she was stoned a lot of the time, so maybe that's why she didn't nag, he seemed to find the bitching amusing. She would get going and he'd tease her about being a wuss. She'd laugh it off and chill. It was kind of sweet and a little nauseating. There was a six month gap in videos and Merlin was once more in front of the screen "yeah just uh covering my ass. Don't know what the hell is going on. Me and Lucile we were really good there, but I dunno. Don't think this is gonna last."

"Who are you talking to," Lucile came out of the bathroom, drying her hair with a towel.

"Nobody, Luce," he said, "Just fucking around on my computer."

"Well stop," she said with a laugh, "It's been a long time."

He spared a glance at the computer and they went to bed. It was over more quickly than usual. He left again and Lucile got out of bed. She went to his computer and she started doing something on it. She picked up her phone and made a call, "I'm online now, but what am I supposed to do?"

"Just go to the address and enter the email I gave you into the login."

"Okay," she said. "Password?'

"J90984U89"

"How the fuck is anyone supposed to remember a password like that?"

"The point is that nobody could guess it," the voice said.

"So now what?"

"There should be an email there from the bank. Do you have the information you need to change the password?"

"I do," she said.

"Small amounts. Nothing that will draw attention."

"Okay," she said.

He walked her through setting up online bill paying. She hung up and went back to bed. Merlin came back a few minutes later. "What are we doing here Luce?" He said when he walked in.

"I'm going to leave him," she said, "I told you. We have a plan right? It's going to work?"

"No," he said running his hand through his hair, "It's not going to work, Luce. It isn't… I mean I love you and stuff but like, I dunno."

"Is there someone else?" She asked.

"No," he said, "No Luce, there wouldn't be. I just… You're married and you've been saying you will leave him."

"Daddy won't just let that happen," she said, "I told you. Daddy isn't going to just let me walk away."

"It's your life Lucile, not his. You're fucking miserable and we both know it. Just leave!"

"I can't!"

"Fuck it. I'm done. I can't do this anymore."

"No, give me one more month. Please, don't do this just yet. Okay. I should be able to have everything ready. Please."

"Fine," he said. He sat on the edge of the bed and she kissed his neck.

"I promise. Everything is going to be okay again."

"Are you still sleeping with him?"

"Why would you ask that?" She asked sitting back.

"Because your husband is a pervert and a sex addict and I like to know what my dick is getting into."

Ouch. Another argument about Vinnie and then she left. The next videos were shorter, similar. She was there, they'd fight, he'd walk out, she'd cry. He'd come back. They'd have half hearted sex and she'd leave. The last video, she went to the bathroom after they'd been fighting. She slammed the door and it was enough to knock her handbag off of the dresser. Merlin picked it up and started packing shit back in. He saw something that clearly freaked him out. The computer angle was bad. We couldn't see what. He took a picture of it with his phone. Shoved everything in her purse and put it back on the dresser. He started pacing and running his hands through his hair. She came out of the bathroom looking shocked herself. She handed him a pregnancy test and he sat down hard on the bed.

"Is it mine or his?" He asked. He looked up at her and she started crying.

"I don't know," she sobbed.

"Then let's call it his," Merlin said and he slapped his computer closed. That was the last video.

"What the hell was in that bag? Where the hell is his phone?"

"They didn't find anything on his phone. The file has to be on the computer somewhere," Ranger said.

"Or on the hard drive grandma saw with the green dragon. Is it possible there's more than on partition on the computer? Maybe we're missing something?"

We combed through the computer. Some of the files were password protected, so we'd need Hector to get in to those. One of them looked like a picture file too.

"While Hector goes through those videos I'll go pay Lucile a visit."

"I'm coming with you," Ranger said. "Let's go."

"Any particular reason?"

"No," he said.

"Okay then, you drive. I'm tired." He smacked my ass as I walked by him to the door. Of course he was going to drive. He always drove. I was just being a smart ass.

We were on our way to Vinnie's when Joe sent me an email with a JPEG attachment. It was a picture of Mooner in jail with a bunch of other idiots who had been picked up for various reasons. Sitting on the bench next to him was a well dressed man with short brown hair. Under the picture was a video. The man in the picture's face couldn't be seen, he looked like a lawyer fresh from a client meeting. He walked by the cell, and paused. He saw Mooner and said something to the cop escorting him through. The cop unlocked the cell and let the man in. He went inside and sat down next to Mooner, and started talking to him like he knew him. There was no audio but it was clear in his demeanor. There was no need to see a face, I knew who it was.

"Shit," I said. "We're sure we know Joyce is safe?"

"As sure as we can be," Ranger said, "It's a woman's only spa. We don't have anyone who can get in, but we're parked outside.

"This guy, in the video, it's the guy Joyce is seeing. It's Charlie."

"You know this how?"

"I recognize the leather jacket."

Ranger picked up his phone, and dialed a number from memory. "Yeah," was the answer.

"She in New York today?"

"Yep, she's looking at glassware. Why?"

"Put her on the phone."

"Hang on," he said.

There was nothing for about a minute. "I'm working Ric. I actually have a wedding this week." Her voice was soft and clear, and she had an interesting accent. Upper East Side meets something slightly European.

"I'm calling in that favor."

There was a loud exhalation of breath. "What?" That single word was all Jersey.

"I'm sending you a picture, and then I'm sending you to a day spa. All I want is for you to get eyes on a woman."

"I'm going to have to book an appointment to get in and I can't afford it."

"Jigsaw will cover everything."

"Fine. I need to get my roots done anyway."

She hung up the phone before Ranger had a chance to. He suppressed a grin. "Was that Molly?"

"Yep. She's usually in New York one day a week and I remember Lester saying it was supposed to be today."

We turned onto Vinnie's street and we got out of the car. The was a screech of tortured rubber, and the rev of a motor cycle engine as Charlie's bike flew onto the street with Electra in the sidecar. She was clutching a very full looking backpack on her lap, and she looked terrified. He came to a skidding halt across the street from us.

"Help! You have to help us I know what you do… Please…" he cried. He was looking at Ranger, not me. He barely finished speaking and there was the ping of a bullet ricocheting off of Electra's side car just barely missing her and nailing Charlie right in the bicep. She was completely frozen with fear when another bullet hit the pavement beside her. I ran towards the bike, and hauled Electra out and ran her towards the car as another shot rang out. This one hitting the front tire of the bike. Ranger had his gun drawn. He wouldn't take a shot in the suburbs unless it was absolutely necessary. He grabbed Charlie and we went around to the other side of the Porsche. Electra was screaming as I was trying to get her into the back of the car. "This thing is armored and it has bullet proof glass. It's basically a tank dressed up like a sports car and it can haul ass. Get in!"

I managed to get her in the backseat, and joined her. Ranger put Charlie upfront and ran round to the driver's side and got in. He peeled out off down the street, and I groped under the backseat for the first aid kit to deal with Charlie's arm. There was a lot of blood, a lot more than I was expecting for a shot to the arm. I put on a pair of gloves and used the scissors in the kit to cut open his jacket to see what I was looking at and he started bleeding harder. I grabbed a bandage and clamped down hard on his arm. Ranger held up his right hand I put a glove on it for him, so he could apply pressure if I needed to let go for a second. It was a good thing I did, because at that moment, Electra started to throw up on the floor of the backseat.

I took off my gloves and held her hair, soothing her as best I could while she got through it. She had to be scared out of her mind. As soon as she finished and seemed to be a little more in control. I re-gloved and took over for Ranger who floored the car. Rangeman was closer than the hospital and Ranger called ahead to have Bobby waiting in the garage. Charlie didn't look so good, and I was worried. I needed to get him talking. Preferably about this. If he didn't make it, we needed to know what happened."

"Talk to me," I said. "Who did this?"

"I don't know," he said, "He told me what to do with Mr. Dunphey. I didn't think anything of it. I mean I didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to do what this monster wanted him to do. Hell even if he would do it, I didn't think anyone would agree to strike."

"Who and why?" I asked.

"I don't know who it was. He had pictures of Electra riding her bike and playing in the yard. He said he'd kill her if I didn't get Dunphey to try to organize a strike. I'm not an idiot, I was right there at the police station, with a client and I was about to say something to the officer outside the door about threatening messages. Thats when I got this skype call, and it's just her in the hallways at school, talking to some of her friends. I did what he instructed."

"I take it that wasn't the last time you heard from him?" I said. He closed his eyes and I shook him urgently. "Wake up Charlie!"

"Daddy!" Electra cried and his eyes opened.

"Just keep talking," I said, "Just try to keep talking, we're almost there."

He nodded weakly.

"He called you again?"

"The next time he called he told me to go hook up with Joyce at this bar. . He told me it was going to be my job to keep tabs on her. This morning he called and he said I didn't have to worry about Joyce anymore. I could go back to sneaking around with dudes. His words. One relationship, just after Electra's mother died, and…"

"It's all good. We're all open minded in this car," I said, "Trust me on that one. I'm related to a guy who once had sexual relations with a duck, and my grandmother was briefly married to a stripper."

"With a duck? How does that even work?"

"I have never really wanted to put too much thought into the logistics," I was pretty sure the bleeding was under control but he was pale and breathing hard. I was relieved to see we'd made it into the lot at Rangeman, and that Bobby was waiting with gear at the ready.

He opened the front door, and took over keeping pressure on the wound in Charlie's arm. Ranger got out of the front seat and I managed to drag Electra out his side of the car. Bobby tipped Charlie's seat all the way back and started working on him. Electra was freaking out again, because she could now see how rough her dad was, and I hugged her so she couldn't see what was happening.

"He needs a hospital! Why aren't we at a hospital?!"

"Bobby is better than most doctors," I soothed, "This is the sort of thing he does. There is nowhere safer than this building for you to be right now, and you'd better believe Bobby's not going to risk your dad. If he thinks he's in over his head, he'll have Ranger get your dad to the hospital faster than any ambulance could get him there."

"Are you sure?" She asked.

"Totally," I said, "You saw how fast he got us out of there. This place was closer than the hospital, and if Bobby can hook your dad up, he's safer here than out there."

Bobby gave me a look that said he was probably going to have Ranger haul ass to the hospital. I took her to the elevator and made her face me for another hug, so she didn't see, Bobby have Ranger take over keeping pressure on the wound, so Bobby could get in the back. I had no idea how this was going to work because Electra and I barely fit in the back of the 911, and Bobby was a big dude, but they were going to do it.

I took Electra upstairs for Ella's cookies, and some mothering.

Ella must have been given a heads up because she met us a the elevator and before Electra had a chance to process what was happening, she had her wrapped up in the type of hug that you feel all the way to your toes. Electra started to cry, and Ella just stroked her hair.

"Why don't you go change dear?" She said to me and I looked down at my bloody clothes. Probably a good idea. Electra wasn't going to calm down looking at her father's blood all over me.

Ranger called me as I was getting out of the shower. Charlie was stable, but he needed surgery. Ranger was putting a ton of men on him, and the surgeon in charge of looking after Charlie was a man Ranger trusted. Morelli was there because he needed to be and Ranger had given a statement.

"Electra will be staying here right?" I said.

"Ella is qualified to be a foster parent. Social Services is already filling out the paperwork. They agree that for the moment it is in her best interest to be kept safe within Rangeman."

"Charlie is stable though? He'll pull through?"

"His prognosis is good," Ranger said.

"I'll tell her," I said.

I got dressed in a pair of fresh jeans and a t-shirt and went to knock on Ella's door with the good news. I was surprised to see her alone.

"She's across the hall," Ella said.

Across the hall was Minnie's apartment. "Ummm…."

"I thought a distraction was a good idea," Ella said. "He's only a year older than she is…"

"Holy crap Ella!"

"Oh relax," she said, "Don't be such a prude."

I stared at her and went across the hall to Minnie's apartment. They were sitting very close on his couch. She was shower fresh herself, and wearing a t-shirt that I was pretty sure belonged to Minnie. She had a pair of my Rangeman sweatpants on, and they were cuffed at the bottom so they weren't too long. They were so deep into video games they hadn't heard me open the door. Clearly Minnie needed to hone his Rangeman skills more.

"I'm just saying Rainbow Dash is the best. I mean she's got mad skills, and she can produce a rainbow with a sonic boom. That's pretty fucking fantastic. You're just into Twilight because she's a princess," Carlos said.

"Uhh, no. She's wicked smart, funny, and helloooo magic," Electra said. "I can't believe you know about My Little Ponies."

"I'll never admit it to anyone, but my little sister loves that shit, and I kinda secretly got hooked."

"Oh I sooo have that intel now Minnie and I'm gonna use it wisely," I said and they both jumped.

"Is my dad okay?" Electra asked, she'd used her startle reflex to come fully to her feet.

"Your dad is in surgery. I don't have all the details but he's going to be fine. In the meantime, you're going to be hanging with Ella for a bit."

She deflated with relief and flopped back onto the sofa next to Carlos. Closer than before. He gave her a one armed hug, "Hey that's good news."

"It's so fucked up," she said.

"Language," I said half heartedly. I felt like someone should.

"Right," Minnie rolled his eyes with that.

"Can it Minnie, or your little pony obsession becomes company knowledge in two clicks of an email."

"Minnie?" Electra asked.

"Probably you didn't notice on account of the gunfire and the fact that Minnie is like 90lbs soaking wet, but he's a smaller version of Ranger."

She muttered something that sounded a lot like, "There could be worse things in the world."

Minnie did such an uncanny impression of Ranger's eyebrow raise that I had to bite back a laugh.

"Holy shit I said that out loud!" Electra said.

"I'll blame it on the stress, Princess," Minnie said. Oh smooth. I rolled my eyes and left, leaving the door opened so Minnie couldn't get his game on. Not that I really thought he would. He was enough like Ranger, and not so secretly wanted to be exactly like him, that I figured he'd probably flirt with her to comfort her, but wouldn't take it further. I went back across the hall to Ella.

"Uhh that happened fast. They will be going steady by the end of the day."

"They are both attractive, roughly the same age and basically made entirely of hormones right now," she said with a shrug, "Carlos is a good boy. You don't have to worry about any Netflix and Chill going on over there."

"I don't know what that means," I said.

"Oh sweetie," Ella said, and patted my cheek, "Have a cookie."


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: I'm back! Sorry to leave you hanging! I was having trouble getting this the way I wanted it so I left it for a bit. The good news is that I'm going to have the rest of it up, ASAP so I hope you enjoy. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and sent me messages! Usual disclaimers apply.**

Ranger came back about an hour later. Charlie would be coming back here tonight. He was stable and he was safer here under Bobby's care in the infirmary than in the hospital, with who knows who out to get him. Ranger found me chatting with Ella in her kitchen. I needed to decompress. There was too much going on for me to sort it all out. I needed sleep to organize everything in my head.  
Things were starting to come together. Charlie and probably Electra knew more about what was going on than she was ready to talk about just now. "Have we got a bead on Joyce yet?"

"I'm expecting to hear back from Molly any minute now," Ranger said. Then, proving once again that Connie's original nickname of 'the Wizard,' was a good one, his phone buzzed and he put it on the table, and hit speaker.

"Yo," he said.

"This woman is a piece of work," Molly said.

"Oh?"

"She's freaking out about some kid, and then with me sitting right here, she's going on and on about the tackiness of using primary colours in ones hair."

"What?" I mouthed at Ranger.

"Molly has blue highlights," Ella said.

"Hi Ella!" Molly said, "And it's red now. Got tired of the Blue."

"I liked the Blue!" Ella said.

"I know but change is as good as a rest right?" Molly said, "Anyways, she then critiqued my nail polish choice. She told me no man was going to want to sleep with me if I looked like an emo teenager. She suggested a colour that could best be described as You're-Going-To-Want-To-Double-Bag-That, red."

"What colour are you using?" Ella asked.

"Well I was going to do a sort of dark chrome, but she's slowly eating away at my self esteem and I'm thinking I do need to switch things up. Now I'm having a pale lilac colour done and Judy here is painting tiny blue irises at the base of my nails."

"That will be pretty."

"So far," Molly said, "Either way, if I'm going to put up with copying her services here today, Ric you owe me now. This is fucking torture."

"I'll send you and Lester to Miami for Christmas," Ranger said.

"That might work. What do you want me to do? She's getting her hair dyed Wilma Flintstone orange, and she's under the dryer now, but she's almost done. I don't know if she's got anything else planned for the day."

"Text Jigsaw when she's ready to leave and get another treatment. Lester will be there in about an hour."

"Oh he can take his time," she said, then she muttered something in German.

"If you're going to do red, you should do a more natural colour like what I've done. I hate this new trend. There's no way that's classy or professional," Joyce said in the background. "And there are no cell phones in here."

"I know, but my cousin called. His wife is in labor right now and he's just giving me an update. Judy here said it would be okay."

"Still, you should lighten your hair a shade and ditch the red. You might actually attract male attention that way."

Molly muttered something that sounded like. "Fotze."

"MOLLY!" Ella scolded.

"I'm being nice," she said. "My therapy bills are coming straight to you Ric."

She hung up. He did grin this time. "What's crawled up her ass today?"

"She got stood up last night," Ella said.

"Again?" Ranger said, furrowing his brow.

"Yes," Ella said, "I'll do some digging on when we go for coffee on Sunday."

"Do that," Ranger said and turned to me, "You need sleep. Let's go."

"I want to check on the love birds first."

"Love birds?"

I nodded to across the hall. Ranger pulled me to my feet and I grabbed a cookie for the road and we went across the corridor. Electra was asleep with a throw blanket over her, her head on a pillow and the pillow propped against Minnie's legs. She was holding his hand and he was watching tv.

"Explain," Ranger said mildly, arms folded across his chest.

"Shit," Minnie said, "Uncle Ric, she was upset and she looked tired so I got her the pillow and blanket and she totally did this all by herself and she started crying and I remembered how mom used to stroke my sister's hair when she was really upset and she just fell asleep on me like this."

"My Little Pony?" Ranger asked.

"It's her favorite show," Carlos said.

"How long has she been asleep?"

"About half an hour," he said.

"And you're still watching?"

I elbowed Ranger in the ribs, "Ahem, you put up with whatever I want to watch when I've had a shitty day. You sat through three hours of Barefoot Contessa last week so cut the kid some slack. This is a play right out of your book, Batman."

"Oh I'm not mocking his television choice," Ranger said, "He just needs to realize I know what he's doing."

"Fuck off," Carlos said. "She's been shot at today and her dad took a bullet."

"I didn't say I disapproved," Ranger said, "Make sure it stays that way."

He closed the door and we went upstairs to our apartment. Lunch Box ambled over to Ranger when we walked in and he reached down to scratch the bird's head, briefly on the way to the kitchen.

"Did Charlie say anything else?"

"No," Ranger said. "He lost consciousness just after you got Electra out of the car. He's going to be fine. Bobby figures it was the shock, not the blood loss. Looks worse than it is, sort of thing."

"Well that's good to hear," I said. "I'm wondering now if the Scopolamine was his idea or if someone else did it? Mooner got everyone to the party, and WB drugged them so they would stay there as long as he needed them to."

"It's possible," Ranger said. "It's possible WB used the drugs to get them to the party in the first place, and just kept dosing them. Light suggestion would be all they would need, in order to keep them there."

I could feel something right there on the tip of my brain. Something I was missing. Something obvious. It just wasn't working though. I was too tired and I just needed a few good solid hours of sleep. Coffee and sugar weren't doing it anymore. Ranger didn't even bother attempting to seduce me. He just propelled me to bed, and I stripped down to just my t-shirt, before flopping face down on that delightful piece of furniture.

I woke up the next morning with a start. Damned if I knew why, there was no reason for me to have. I felt refreshed though, and good to go. So after a shower I went to my closet to get dressed. It was a nice day and I decided to wear one of my dresses from Florida. It was a short, flirty, peach sundress that would look cool with a jean jacket. No idea what inspired this wardrobe choice, but I went with it. Lunch Box wolf whistled when I walked out of the bedroom and I took that to mean I was looking good.

"You coming to work this morning, buddy?" I asked.

"Fuck yeah," he said and followed me to the elevator.

"You know, I feel like if I were to get you a harness I could walk you like a dog."

"Fuck off," he said.

"Okay, no leash then," I said and pressed the button that would take us to 5. I let him off and he made a bee line for Ranger's office. I followed him and found Batman deep into a pile of paperwork.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I need an office manager who can deal with all of this… bullshit," he said. He reached into his desk and pulled out a padlock and a lock pick and put it on the only paper free surface, just under Babe TV. Lunchbox climbed up and got to work.

"Don't look at me," I said holding both hands up, "I don't mind helping occasionally, but I like being stuck in an office, just about as much as you do."

"I don't know that many people that would like doing this BS," he said. "Did you need something from me, or were you just checking in?"  
He was looking irritated with life in general, so I walked around to his side of the desk, he pushed away from his computer so he was facing me and I straddled his lap. I laid a kiss on him, and he took advantage of the fact that I was wearing a dress, and felt me up a bit.

"Just wanted to say hi," I said. "I'm going to check on Lula, and then I'm going to talk to Lucile, did you still want to come?"

"Let me know when you're walking out the door," he said.

"Does that mean you're coming with me, or is it so you can stare at my ass?" I asked.

He almost smiled and kissed me again. I could get used to working in this building. I readjusted my position on his lap and looked at the paperwork he was filling out. It was mostly just a bunch of forms about existing clients. I could help with this. I took his pen from him, deciding Lula could wait, and shifted to one side of his lap and started filling out the top of the page. He didn't budge and his right hand was still up my skirt, resting on my hip.

After I filled out the first form, and he still hadn't moved I looked over my shoulder. "Were you feeling like a righty today and I'm in your way? I can move to your other knee."

"I'm just thinking that office work isn't so bad after all."

"If the bird wasn't in here, we'd be having sex right now, wouldn't we?" I said with a grin.

"Yep," he said.

"Get to work mister," I said.

"I think I'll enjoy the view a bit longer. You look nice today. I like this," he said. He played with the hem of my skirt, "You wore this on our honeymoon."

"I did, didn't I?" I said, grinning. It was the only thing I wore for probably three whole minutes for three whole days. "I forgot I wore this particular dress. I woke up this morning and decided I wanted to wear it. Maybe I sensed that you needed perking up today."

"Maybe," he said. He watched me fill out a few more pages and then he leaned to his left to get another pen and started working again. Half an hour later we were most of the way through the stack of paper, when Bobby tapped on the door frame.

"Good, you're here too," he said, not at all phased that I was sitting on Ranger's lap. "Charlie's awake, and he wants to talk."

"Give us ten minutes. Where's the kid?" Ranger asked.

"With the other kid, in Steph's office sorting through Minnie's mess."

"They hit it off quick," I said.

"No surprise there really," Bobby said, "She's quite the smartass, so is he. They speak the same language."

"Just keep them out of Hector's coffee," I said. Bobby grinned, and left.

We finished the last of the paperwork and went down to the infirmary, popping by my office to make sure things were okay. The lid was off of my cookie jar, and they were debating something on the spiderweb. I left them to it.

Charlie was in the infirmary on an oversized hospital bed, that I knew from experience was more comfortable than any hospital bed I'd ever slept in at any hospital. He was looking much better than he did the last time I saw him. "Electra seems to be doing okay this morning," I said. His shoulders slumped with relief.

"I was afraid she'd be intimidated," he said, "Your staff is…"

"Scary?" I supplied.

"Yeah," he said.

"Only when you piss them off," I said, "Otherwise they are all softies. Every last one of them. I should warn you though, it's possible she has a new boyfriend. She hit it off with our nephew yesterday."

"I'm not sure I'm ready for that," Charlie said.

"Yeah," I said. I considered Charlie for a minute, he'd have had to have been relatively young when he became a dad. He was maybe my age, maybe a little older. "What happened to her mom?" I asked.

"Cervical Cancer," he said. "About four years ago. She was twenty when she had Electra. Didn't slow her down at all. We met in University and we lived with her parents while we were in school. She went home between classes and I remember her studying with Electra on her lap."

"Do you have any family we should call?" I asked. "Maybe Electra's grandparents?"

"It's just us now," he said shaking his head. "Christ I can't believe I let myself get drawn into this bullshit. She's going to have nobody when they arrest me."

"They aren't arresting you," Ranger said, "You're both staying here, in protective custody, until we're sure the threat to your life is gone. If necessary you'll go into Witsec."

"What happened?" I asked. "They just called you out of the blue? Do you know how they knew you were at the Jail that day?"  
"No idea," Charlie said, "I wasn't even supposed to go that day. My boss told me I had to meet with a new client. It's not unusual for that to happen. I didn't think anything of it."

"Who was the client?"

"A woman named Chantilly Grace. She caught her husband cheating so she decided to take advice from that song, Hit 'em Up Style? She took his credit cards and maxed them on a shopping spree, after she served him with divorce papers. He had her charged."

"How much did she spend?"

"About twenty grand," Charlie said. "I was able to get the charges dropped since she did have signing authority on the card, and he hadn't bothered to cancel her card. Stupid on his part. It would be the first thing I did."

"So you got the messages during that appointment and you went to the cell. Mooner says you were there all weekend."

"That man was so high that I don't think he noticed that I left and came back again, about half a dozen times."

"What do you know about Scopolamine?" I asked.

"For like motion sickness?" He asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"The only reason I've even heard of it before is because my ex was allergic to the stuff and I had to take him to the emergency room one time, and he listed it on the intake form."

"This ex of yours, the man you met after your wife died, how did you meet?"

"He approached me at a bar in Princeton. Never really been attracted to a man before and he wasn't all that good looking, but charming. Really charming. And smart, scary smart. He had these eyes that saw right through you. He was good to Electra too. He was a psychologist and he told me that she wasn't coping as well as she should be. He even found her a therapist to help her deal with losing her mom. About six months after we started dating, he proposed."

"Where is he now?"

"He went away on a business trip. He called from the road and told me that he had a house here in Trenton, and that he wanted Electra and I to move in to it. He was having the deed transferred over to our names."

"Why?"

"He had a patient who was completely whacked out, and started stalking him. He said he had to disappear for a while, while the police tried to hunt him down."

"Did they find him?"

"I don't know," Charlie said, "I haven't heard from him in a long time."

I looked at Ranger; that was interesting. We knew WB played a long game, how long ago did they meet? Could this be part of the plan?

"Describe him for me?"

"He had this crazy red hair, and he was really skinny…"

A chill went down my spine. Okay so there were a lot of smart people out there, and I was sure that there were some red headed ones. The chances that he was talking about Fat Stanley were slim right?

"What was his name?" I asked.

"Walter Buford," he said. "What does he have to do with anything?"

"Just trying to figure out if he's connected to this. I think it has to be someone who knows you, someone you've met before."

"It's just been me and Electra since Walter left. She got attached and I didn't want to do that to her again. I could hardly keep her from Joyce because we're neighbours, but I'm trying to keep my distance. I'm not sure if Walt is coming back or not, and I'm not really sure I want to be in another relationship again."

"Anything else you can tell us? Anything at all?"

"Just that the man on the phone seemed to know every time I went to the police station. I mean every time."

"So when Joyce disappeared you just decided to take off?"

"I did," he said, "I was worried that he'd try to take out me an Electra for talking. I didn't know what else to do. I knew what you did, and I saw you there with Mr. Manoso and I turned down that street because I thought maybe you could help me."

"We're going to try," I said, "How much does Electra know?"

"Nothing, I haven't told her anything. I didn't want her to be afraid. I didn't want this to touch her if I could help it. What is she doing now?"

"Carlos is my office assistant and she's hanging with him, helping out."

"Good, she needs to keep busy."

"I was going to check on them before I headed out. Do you want her to come down and visit?"

"No," he said, "Keep her where she is, if she's happy."

Ranger stayed downstairs so he could discuss Charlie's status with Bobby, and I went upstairs to go see what the kids were up to. It would seem that what they were up to, was arguing.

"I'm telling you, all roads lead back to Harry the Hammer," Electra said.

"I'm not disagreeing with you," Minnie was saying.

"I'm saying that the man is a mob boss, and he hates Vinnie. Hates him. To take out Vinnie like this makes sense."

"And I'm telling you it doesn't. He's got a lot of money tied up in that business and if it goes under it hurts him. He's not going to fuck himself like that. I'm saying WB is targeting Harry."

"Okay kids," I said, intervening, "There's a lot of room in this sandbox for both of you. Tell me what's going on."

Minnie glared, "What's going on is everything, and I mean everything in these files, ties into Harry at least one way or another."

"How do you figure?"

"I mean, there isn't one thing that doesn't point back to his organization in some way," Minnie said. "Even this murder. Okay it wasn't on your list, but it came up in a couple other cases, because of some name or another, and it turns out this lady, Penelope Loupe fits in with all of this. She was walking her dog and got hit by a car. Witnesses say she bent to tie her shoe. The guy who hit her swerved to avoid a head on collision with another dude on his phone. The man who hit her, went up onto the sidewalk thinking he was only going to take out a mailbox and took out both her and the mail box. Bad luck right? The guy was cleared of all wrong doing. "

"Yeah," I said. "Why is her name familiar?"

"Because Penelope Loupe was on a jury that convicted one of Harry's henchmen; a man named something stupid like Jimmy the fish or something, it's in the file."

"Troutlips Sandy," Electra said with a sigh, "We read it like two minutes ago; how do you not remember it?"

"Because I was too busy drawing the connections."

"So how do we know this guy is telling the truth? That he didn't target her on purpose?"

"Okay get this; Electra called one of the witnesses pretending to be you, and he said that Penelope walked her dog the same time every day. It's a relatively busy street, and the guy who was on his phone had just pulled out of his space, supposedly without looking because he was on his phone, and he did it just as the dude who hit her, turned the corner. He didn't have a choice but to go up on the curb and Boom dead Penelope. He said he told the police that he thought there was something weird about it. Like why did the guy pull out at that exact moment? They told him it was just bad luck. How can you plan for someone needing to stop and tie their shoes, and be in the exact spot just as a car went by. You couldn't guarantee the guy was even paying attention enough to choose the curb over the head on."

"Yeah," I said. I sort of agreed with the police on this one.

"Except one witness, out of ten other ones, said that Penelope didn't stop to tie her shoe, the witness said that she stopped to help her little dog, who had stepped in something and was limping. She said she was looking at whatever it was on the sidewalk that hurt the dog. When she saw the car coming she threw her dog out of the path of getting hurt."

"Did they examine the dog?"

"Yeah, they found glass in his paws and some kind of residue, but they figured it was from the accident."

"And to cap it all off? The guy who hit her? His name is Gianmario Calitri," Electra said.

"Okay?" I said. Not following.

"I checked his name in one of your search engines and found an engagement announcement in a newspaper. He was engaged to Harry's daughter Lucile about a year before she married Vinnie. And it turns out that Calitri drove that same route every single day on his way home from work."

"What?" I said. I went to the computer and read the engagement announcement. Sure enough, there was a picture of a young Lucile with an attractive, not at all weasel like, man. He kind of looked like a skinny Morelli actually, with bigger teeth.

I picked up my phone and called Vinnie. He answered his phone with a, "What?"

"You ever hear of the name Gianmario Calitri?"

"Yeah, Lucile and I broke up for a bit just after high school. She told me she dated him for a while. Why?"

"They were engaged," I said.

"Like fuck they were," Vinnie said, "The whole reason we broke up was because Lucile was waiting for marriage. Calitri was worse than Morelli in the libido department. Couldn't go two minutes without tapping something. No way he and Lucile were that serious."

"Why did they break up?" I asked.

"Don't know, didn't ask. She just told me after we got back together, that they dated for a while. Why?"

"His name popped up in this investigation."

"He's a useless tool. Big guy on campus in college and high school. He works nights as a gas station attendant and he's fat as all get out."

"Thanks Vinnie," I said and hung up. "I have to go talk to Lucile,"I was about to call her when grandma called. "What's up grandma?"

"Found that green hard drive thingie," she said.

"Did you look on it?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said, "It was just our wedding and a letter telling me that if anything happened, he wanted to say he was sorry for dragging me into this. He thought it would have been fun being married to me, and he hoped I wouldn't ever read this letter."

"Was there anything else on the drive?"

"No," she said, "But I thought Hector might take a look at it."

"I'll swing round to pick it up," I said. I met Ranger in the garage and we picked up the drive. We brought it back to Rangeman and handed it to Hector immediately. On the way to Vinnie's I filled Ranger in on what the kids found.

"Ranger," I said, "Chimera says this guy is an amateur. Harry is no amateur. He can be a little reactive, but…". I didn't even want to say it out loud. I was pretty sure I knew who WB was and I didn't want to believe it. It made perfect sense though.

"Am I crazy in thinking this?" I asked, assuming Ranger could read my mind.

"No," Ranger said.

We pulled up in front of Vinnie's house and we rang the doorbell. Vinnie answered the door, and he looked pale.

"Now's not a good time guys," he said, "I have company."

"Go to the car," I said, "Call Morelli. Tell him to get here and he needs to do it quietly."

"Why?" Vinnie asked.

"Go," Ranger said.

We walked in to the house and followed the sound of voices, to Vinnie's dining room. You had to give Lucile credit. She was a great decorator. Vinnie's house was beautiful. The dining room had a huge, oval walnut table big enough to seat at least 16. Cream upholstered chairs lined the table, the dining room was painted a deep burgundy and there was soft cream wainscoting around the room. The table was decorated with a nice bouquet of pink and white lily type flowers. Ranger noticed them too.

Sitting at the table was Lucile, her father, Nicky, and the guy from the video Joe took.

"Those are nice flowers," Ranger said, "Peruvian lilies."

"Very good Mr. Manoso," Lucile said beaming, " How did you know what they were?"

"My cousin is a florist," he said.

"They are my absolute favourite. Only in this colour though; the Pink Rebecca. Daddy gets them for me once a week so that I've always got fresh ones in the house."

There it was. That was the last hole filled. She was most certainly Becky, and now we knew why. The flowers.

"What brings you here this morning?" Harry asked.

"We're here about the problem with Vinnie and the Bonds office," Ranger said. "We had some questions."

"Oh?" Lucile asked. "For me or daddy?"

"You actually. We didn't think you'd mind us interrupting; it's important and everything," I said.

"No, that's okay; of course I can answer some questions.'

"We were just having a little breakfast while Nicky, Lucky and I discussed a problem with someone Nicky has already spoken to you about," Harry said.

Oh this could be tricky, and why did the name Lucky ring a bell? "About that problem," I said, "You ever play that game Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon?"

"Yeah," he said.

"We think as far as all of this WB stuff is concerned, you're Kevin Bacon," I said. "Everything, every crime we can attribute to WB, we can connect to you. Sometimes it's a direct connection, sometimes it takes a few steps to get to you. We think bringing you down and taking over your organization is the the goal."

"You're sure?" Harry asked.

"Absolutely. I've had someone tracing everything and everyone associated with this, and there isn't one that doesn't trace back to you in some way. I think you're being set up to take the fall for a whole lot of shit you didn't do. Only WB has been making mistakes and letting personal issues get involved and we think that's how we're going to trace him."

"How are you going to do that?" Harry asked.

"Do you know a man named Gianmario Calitri?" Ranger asked.

"Yeah, the rat bastard," Harry said, "He was engaged to Lucile here and he was slipping it to some woman in Elizabeth the whole time Lucy was with him. She found out when the prick asked for the ring back because he wanted to give it to the other broad. I contacted the girl's father, told him that Calitri was engaged to my baby girl. He told his little girl and she sold the ring, it was a good ring; she was able to buy herself a new car. Calitri has been having a difficult time getting meaningful employment since then. I make it my business to know where he's looking for jobs and I like to discourage his potential employers."

"Why didn't you just whack him?" I asked.

"Lucy asked me not to," Harry said, "I'd do anything for my princess."

"That doesn't look good for you Harry," I said, "It looks really bad actually."

"Why?" he asked.

"Calitri was involve in an incident that involved a woman named Penelope Loupe. An incident made to look like an accident but police are investigating it like Calitri was set up."

"Who the fuck is Penelope Loupe?" Harry demanded

"She was on the jury that convicted Alexander Butta," Ranger said. As if he knew Troutlips Sandy's real name.

"The fuck?" Harry said. "Sandy was going to do a nickle, in Medium security. We told him to take the fall. I'm not going to off some poor broad because she did her civic duty without inconveniencing me."

"That's not going to work for a jury, Harry," I said, "Like maybe you had someone following a juror and you saw Calitri and realized that you could take them both out. Or maybe they think you blackmailed him. 'You can have your life back if you Kill this bitch.''' I suggested.

"That's fucking crazy," Harry said.

"I totally agree," I said. "The police weren't going to investigate further, except that they came across the connection to Lucile and what with Penelope Loupe being on Troutlips' Jury…"

"She's right Harry," Nicky said, "You ever know Miss Plum's gut wrong about anything like this? There's a reason you told Vinnie he couldn't fire her. She's too fucking good at this. If Manoso is backing her up, you know this is real shit."

"We're going to have to do some serious damage control," Lucky said.

That was it! Lucky was the voice on the phone in Lucile's video. I chanced a look at Lucile and saw a smile so brief and so slight it would have done Ranger proud. Holy shit. I suspected, but I didn't want to believe it. I inhaled sharply and managed to breathe in some of my own hair, and started coughing.

This? This was my fucking life. I solve a case and can I be all cool like Columbo or maybe Sherlock Holmes where I have all of the players in a room, and I reveal the murderer in some cool way? Hell no, I have to randomly choke on my own fucking hair.

"Something wrong Stephanie?" Lucile asked, "Can I get you something to drink?"

"It's you; you're WB," I croaked, my eyes streaming from my coughing fit. I'm sure I looked awesome. Ranger poured me a glass of orange juice from the pitcher on the table and handed it to me.

"Don't be silly," she said with a laugh, she shot a look at Lucky and the one he returned was very like the one Ranger was giving me right now. I could almost hear Ranger in my head saying 'Be careful, Babe.'

"You stopped sleeping with Vinnie when you started sleeping with Wylitt."

"Don't be silly," she repeated, "I didn't sleep with anyone named Wylitt."

"Yep," I said, finally catching my breath, "You're knocked up too."

She laughed, "Look at me? Do I look pregnant? I'm seeing a doctor for treatments; ask Vinnie. He takes me every month."

Actually she looked a bit like a stick insect with tits and a lot of hair.

"The doctor you're seeing doesn't do fertility treatments," I said, "You're about eleven weeks pregnant, give or take. You've also submitted a sample for paternity testing. It wasn't Wylitt's sample because he broke up with you before you had the chance to get one from him. There wouldn't be any point in getting one from Vinnie, Wylitt already said he didn't want anything to do with the baby, and Vinnie's never going to suspect that you're sleeping around. So whose sample is it Lucile?"

"How the fuck do you know he said he didn't want anything to do with the baby?" She asked, her voice hushed.

"You don't think I'm going to do a deep investigation into someone trying to frame my grandmother? I know you told everyone that your name was Becky so they couldn't figure out who you were. I figure you started sleeping with Lucky about a month before things went bad with Wylitt. You were doing a lot of work together by then weren't you?"

Lucile shook her head, and laughed wryly. She started humming Miley Cirus' song Wrecking Ball under her breath. "I knew setting Edna up was a mistake. Especially when Chimera backed out. I was just so fucking pissed off. Arty left me for her? Seriously? He wouldn't come back to look after our baby, because of your fucking ancient grandmother?"

"This is true?" Harry said. "Tell me this isn't true? Why didn't you just tell me you were in trouble? I could have helped you."

"Why the fuck does everyone just automatically think I'm stupid?" She said. "I got straight A's all through school, but everyone always assumed that I was dumber than a bag of rocks. You wouldn't believe the shit people say around me, thinking I don't understand what's going on."

"If you wanted out with Vinnie, I could have done that. You didn't need to do all of this. You know I would give you anything you ever wanted."

"Almost daddy, almost," she said, "Gianmario. You wouldn't let me have him. Not because he cheated on me, but because he wasn't weak like Vinnie is and he was going to take me away from this fucked up family. I know you threatened his mother and paid him off. I saw the check. Instead you go ahead an let me marry that fucking little pervert, and every time I go to leave him, you won't let me. You tell me for the good of the family I have to take him back.

"He brings you a lot of money, and he's useful. Especially with these two here and their connections. I was fine with it; I was for a long time and then I met Arthur, and I thought I fell in love with him. I knew there was no way you'd let me leave Vinnie for a stripper. So I called Lucky. See, me and Lucky, we've been close for a long time; he's never treated me like I was stupid. I gave you another chance daddy. I told you Vinnie was screwing around on me again, and I couldn't take it anymore. I actually left him, and you made me go back. You made me listen to his insincere whining, and begging. Then I found out you actually paid him money to do that sucking up! So that's when Lucky and I decided that it was time to make a change.

"We had a plan. I would go to you for money, for shopping, or to buy a car, or do a renovation, and Lucky would hook me up on the cheap and I'd use the money you were giving me to bankroll the small operations. Just to get me noticed you see? Then we started stirring things up a bit. I'm not the only one who gets treated like she's dumb. Lots of the other Family women are treated that way; so I listened to their bullshit, and then I'd come back to Lucky and he'd do some digging. At first I thought, I'd just show you that I wasn't the flake you thought I was, but when I discovered how easy it was, I realized that you were getting soft daddy. That's why you were so dependant on the Bonds Office. It was your retirement plan. Torture Vin for the fun of it, and I had to pay for it? I'm done with being used daddy."

"Baby, I thought you were happy with Vinnie," Harry said, "I thought you were just upset about the cheating, so I paid him to keep his dick in his pants. I've been having him followed so he does."

"Do I look fucking happy daddy? Really? I fucking hated my life. Nobody renovates their house four times in four years if they are happy. They do it because they are bored. You won't let me get a job, you wouldn't let me go to college. Stupid flighty Lucile, it would be a waste of time and money."

"If could have made it work, for you and Wylitt."

"Yeah, you could have, but you wouldn't. Lucky though? He would. Lucky really would do anything for me. Wouldn't you Lucky?"

"You know I would Precious," Lucky said.

"I didn't realize it until recently. We got carried way one night after a close call. It made me really think about how I was looking at things."

"But you said you were in love with Wylitt?" Harry said.

"He was a dope smoker who was good in bed. I'd forgotten what it felt like to actually get off without having to do all the work myself. I confused afterglow and a pot high with love," she said with a shrug.

"Baby," Harry said, suddenly beaming. He walked around the table and wrapped a startled Lucile in a tight hug. "I love Lucky like he's my son already. You want to ditch the rodent for him? I would be happy to turn things over to the two of you."

"You would?" she said, brightening, "Really?"

"Of course I would," he said, "There are easier ways to take out Vinnie than what you've been doing."

"Whacking him is too easy," she said.

"I never said we'd whack him."

"I have a problem daddy." She said with possibly the creepiest pout I've ever seen. The facial features were all perfect for the innocent face, the eyes were cold and hard. Harry didn't mind, he looked fucking proud actually. "It was going so good but I made a mistake with Edna and now I'm in trouble. Will you help me fix it?"

I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye, and suddenly Ranger was shoving me behind him and he and Lucky had guns pointed at each other. Harry walked to the sideboard and produced a revolver. He pointed it at Ranger. "No hard feeling eh Manoso? I know you understand; you having a daughter and all."

He cocked the hammer, there was a crack of gunfire and Lucile screamed as Lucky dropped like a stone. It wasn't Ranger who fired the gun, it was Nicky. Harry was distracted by Nicky's gun and fired wide. Ranger lunged forward and disarmed him, and pinned him against the table. While Ranger was handling that, I was going for the gun Lucky had dropped when he hit the carpet. I got there before Lucile and aimed it at her.

There was a sound of several foot steps in the hall outside of the dining room and Nicky put the gun down on the ground, then held his hands in the air as Trenton's finest stormed Vinnie's dining room.

"Sorry boss," Nicky said as Morelli cuffed him, "You pay me to protect you. Sometimes I have to protect you from yourself."

 _AN: I'm still not sure if I'm completely happy with this chapter, and I may come back and tweak it. I was just feeling a bit guilty for leaving you hanging for so long._


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: TADA! All done! Enjoy!**

Joe, it turned out was not there because Vinnie called him. While Ranger and I were doing paperwork, Hector's facial recognition came back on the guy from the video, aka Lucky. Hector had emailed the results to all three of us, but because we were absorbed in paperwork, we didn't read ours. Joe ran him through the system and in his file was a picture of Lucky from back in the day, handing a bag of something to Gianmario Calitri. Calitri was identified in the picture and when Joe did a search on him, he came up with the same engagement announcement and incident reports Minnie had found. He did the math, got a search warrant, and was on his way with a bunch of officers to execute it, when Vinnie called. He had a wire he'd worn for a different case, in his car so he brought it inside with him and shoved it under the door to the dining room. He got an audio recording of everything. They arrested Harry, and Lucile, and Lucky was carted off to the hospital. Nicky was set free, seeing as he was saving Ranger's life when he pulled the trigger.

The Feds were a bit pissed that Morelli was getting credit for the bust, and they took over as soon as Lucile and Harry were in custody. All of our evidence was confiscated, including grandma's hard drive. The drive was partitioned the same way the computer was, and could only be unlocked with the Wonder Woman key. Besides the wedding pictures and stuff, there also was also a word document, written by Merlin, detailing everything he had dug up about Lucile and her role as Wrecking Ball. He had been digging for months and had everything. He made it easy for them. He had created a spiderweb like Minnie had, only his was far more detailed and showed just how deep WB was in, in every organization. It was enough to take Lucile down completely. Lucile and everyone involved in her operation.

Two days after Vinnie's world fell apart, Ranger got a phone call. The assignment he put on hold because of Chimera couldn't wait anymore. I was bummed but couldn't dwell on it; I didn't have the time. Connie and I were spending all of our time sorting out Vinnie's office, trying to keep it afloat while he was dealing with the Feds. With Harry the Hammer in the slammer… sorry… he needed to find another backer. So Lula, me and Connie, spent a fuck of a lot of time making sure his books were in order, coming up with business projections etc. Then he took our hard work and a day later, found a new business partner. That's when Connie gave her notice. Lula had to be forcibly restrained because she actually tried shove Vinnie's head up his ass. We stopped her because we were worried about the baby, what with the heavy lifting and strain and all. I just flat out told him to go fuck himself, and quit. The backer? Joyce Barnhardt. Vinnie was an ungrateful prick.

I signed the Rangeman contract, and then had nothing at all to do. That's when Lester and I decided that Lunch Box needed to learn a new trick. The morning after Ranger got back, the bird was getting pretty good.

Lester gave Lunch Box another black jelly bean. They were his favorite. Lester had the giggles, which on a grown man as badass as he was, should have been off-putting, but wasn't because I had them too. We'd been spending far too much time together. It turned out we were both a bad influence. I held up the picture and Lunch Box earned another jelly been.

"Fuck this is a smart bird," Lester said.

"I know," I said. "Do you think he's ready?"

"Yes," Lester said. "Absolutely."

We both did some deep breathing and then with Lunch Box walking beside me to the elevator, and Lester sprinting up the stairs to slip into his cubicle. We made it to five and I casually walked over to Les with a folder. Nobody paid any attention to us or the fact that Lester was still quietly giggling. There was the general murmur of productivity on the floor, and everything was nice was absolutely normal.

Lunch Box bobbed around, greeting everyone, because we were teaching him to be polite. Then Ranger walked out of his office.

"Hi there RANGER RIC!" Lunch Box yelled and the office went dead quiet.

Ranger looked at Lunch Box, "No."

Lunch Box ducked and then more quietly said, "Hi Boss." Then scurried over to Lester. Lester slipped him another jelly bean, and put him on his desk. Lunch Box tried to blend in with his environment by hiding behind the computer monitor. Camouflage is hard to do when you're a pink bird trying to hide in a predominantly grey environment.

The hum resumed, but it was strained. It was like everybody in the office was determined to go back to normal without showing any signs of amusement.

Ranger walked over to the two of us. "Yes?" I asked innocently.

"You'll pay for that," he said.

"Promises, promises," I said with more bravado than I felt. "Besides, how do you know it was me?"

"You mean how do I know it was the both of you?" Ranger asked. He cuffed Lester in the back of the head. He wasn't gentle about it. He coaxed his bird out from behind the computer and brought him back to his office.

"Are you concussed?" I asked Lester.

"No, but I think he knocked something loose," Lester said. "I was hoping that would last longer. We underestimated his intimidation factor."

"Which was stupid," I said, "And now I feel like we've wasted the last three weeks."

"Me too," he said. "Damn. How much trouble will you be in?"

"I may get a spanking but that could just be fun."

Lester snickered.

"Well now what do we do?" I asked, sitting on his desk.

"I suppose I do have a job," Lester said.

"Technically you're my partner until Ranger is fully back on the job, and I've got nothing to do until this afternoon…OH! Miami! I still owe Miami for locking me up!"

"Oh," Lester said with a diabolical grin, "I've been working on that."

He showed me his plans.

"Is that even possible? Someone will see us," I said sort of awed by the classic.

"Monitor room has been moved down to the ground level. The floor will be completely empty after 6PM."

"That's convenient," I said.

"Well we do have Tank on our side. He is fully aware of what I've got in mind and he's helping facilitate things. There should be a crate of supplies in your Florida apartment. I say we sneak down, don't let anyone know we're coming. You just use your keys to kill the monitor when you get in. People will think it's you and Ranger making out on your way to your apartment. Then we'll get Hector to do a diagnostic on the cameras on the office floor, so they are out of commission, all night. We have Tank, Hector, Hal and Cal, all on board. Between the six of us, we should be able to do it."

"Yep," I said, "But if everything is already there, we can for sure do this in a night. It doesn't feel like enough though. I mean it'll inconvenience them for a day or two, but they locked me in jail for trying to do my job. I want more."

"Beautiful, that's just day one. A day for each hour you were in holding."

"How long was I in there for? It felt like weeks."

"Seven hours."

"I love you," I said. He grinned.

"Day one is the easy day."

"Day two?" He clicked a tab, and my grin turned as evil as his.

"Babe?" Ranger said and I froze. He looked at the screen.

"That's going to be challenging," he said.

"We have a six man team," Lester said.

"Seven," he said. "She's my wife. You don't think I want in on this?"

"Oh this is going to be so damned good. Does Ella have everyone's shoe sizes?" Lester asked.

"Yes," Ranger said, "I'll get them to you."

"Did you have something for me to do?" I asked.

"No," he said, "I just got a call. We need to talk in my office."

The giggles I had went away immediately. Fuck I hoped he wasn't going away again. He just came back. I followed him back to his office where Lunch Box was now sleeping on his perch and I sat down.

"Any idea how long you'll be gone for this time?" I asked. "Lester and I are going to need to order supplies for operation, Don't Fuck With Me, and Lester's gonna wanna figure out a timeline."

"I'm not going away for a while," he said, "I've been training a replacement. Rangeman is getting too big to leave for months at a time."

"You're not doing this for me are you? I mean I hate it that you go, but I know you wouldn't be you if you did this sort of thing."

"You were a consideration, but the truth is, I'm getting a bit old for it, and it's losing its appeal. Becoming jaded is dangerous in that line of work; it's how you get killed. It's a good time to get out. I'll still be needed but as a strategist in DC, which means when I leave you can come with me if you want."

I smiled. Yep. I wanted. "Umm are you sure it's a good idea for me to be in DC? Hell the Secret Service might not even allow me in city limits. Shit tends to blow up around me."

"I'm fairly confident it won't be a problem," he said.

"Is this what the phone call was about?" I asked.

"No," he said grimly. "Stanley Mallory has escaped from prison."

Fat Stan was out. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. He was scary. Like super scary. Like I might never sleep again scary. And he had a thing for me.

"You're fine," Ranger said, "He likes you. He's weird like that. You helped catch him and he won't hold a grudge for that. He'll respect you for it, but revenge for shit like that isn't his style."

"You shot off his ear," I said.

"He had it coming," Ranger said with a shrug.

"When did this happen?" I asked.

"They don't know," Ranger said.

"How the fuck can they not know?"

"He shaved his head shortly after his arraignment. Without the hair he looks a lot different. He's nearly indistinguishable from every other skinhead out there. He was transferred to a maximum security federal prison, and the last anyone is absolutely certain that they saw him, was when he was getting off of the transfer bus."

'There have to be witnesses though," I insisted.

"He's Fat Stan and nobody wants to fuck with him. Nobody is saying anything, but there has been a man living in his cell for who knows how long, pretending to be him. The Guards on his cell block are being investigated, but he was apparently a model prisoner in a cell block of not so model prisoners. They had bigger problems to worry about than someone who just sat in his cell and read all day.

A week ago, one of the guards on his cell block retired. He's since disappeared. They believe he was the one to change Stanley's picture on file. When he did this, they don't know. So nobody is sure when he made the switch."

"Why don't they just ask the guy who was pretending to be Stan?"

"He's dead," Ranger said. "A new guard transferred from Florida, realized that the guy on the block wasn't Stan and raised the alarm. The man in his place is a John Doe, and he was shanked before he had a chance to be questioned."

"What happens now?" I asked.

"Nothing," Ranger said, "We don't have a clue where he is, and he's not the vendetta type. I'll put a man on Charlie and Electra just in case Walter comes back and turns out to be Fat Stan. I think it's a long shot though. What he will likely do is resume fucking with the people he fucked with before he went in. He'll play with them until he gets bored and he'll start planning something."

"You're sure he won't fuck with us?" I asked.

"Positive," Ranger said, "It's not the first time I've brought him in."

"So what now?" I asked and he checked his watch.

"Now we go get ready," he said.

I groaned and he took my hand. "Do I have to?"

"Yep," he said, "I made the effort to get back a week ahead of schedule so I didn't miss it. It wasn't easy, so suck it up."

"You haven't seen what mom is making me wear," I said, but let him drag me to the elevator. Lunch Box had roused himself and was joining us. We got upstairs and Lunch Box made for the counter. He stood on Rex's cage, impatiently shifting from foot to foot. Rex actually came out of his soup can and put his feet up on the door to his cage. I opened the cage, transferred Rex to a Hamster ball and put it on the floor. They were friends. Lunch Box would roll the ball around the room, and if he stopped and got bored, Rex would roll the ball up to Lunch Box and bump into him. This would instigate another round of hamster soccer.

Ranger watched this development, with a certain amount of amusement. "Keeping the kids entertained I see," he said.

"Yep," I replied.

We left them to it and went into the bedroom. I stared with hatred in my heart at the garment bag hanging on a hook in the closet. It contained the Helen Plum approved dress. "It's Boyband Hot out side. I'm half expecting Nick Lachey to jump out of the thermometer."

"You've got to want that one," he said.

"You're not supposed to be critical of my whining," I muttered, "Ranger, the dress simultaneously makes me look like a nun, and a prostitute. It does that while being the weirdest shade of green in the universe. Hell I don't even know if it's green, blue or yellow. It's fucking weird. It's long sleeved and I don't mean a nice light silk or a breezy lace, I mean it's a thick cotton."

"Babe." That one meant, 'It can't be that bad.'

"You don't believe me?" I said. I opened the garment bag and showed him proof of the worst dress in history. "She says it will look good with my eyes."

"Don't wear it," he was easy for him to say.

"Oh no, I have to wear it. Mom's words were that if I wanted her to ever make me Pineapple Upside Down Cake ever again, I was wearing this. She said that the only way I was getting out of it was if something tragic happened to destroy the dress."

Ranger took the dress off the hanger and dropped it on the floor. He whistled and Lunch Box waddled into the room. The bird eyed the fabric with lust in his eyes. Ranger picked up his fine, feathered friend and put him back down on the hated garment, "Make your bed."

Lunch Box let out a happy squawk and started shredding the dress. "Problem solved," Ranger said. "Pick something else."

God I loved that man.

He prodded me into the closet and I chose a floaty, light blue silk sundress, that went to my knees. Pretty, understated, and a little sexy. Ranger's smile when I finished getting ready was a good indication that I'd picked the right dress. It was 98 degrees outside so I wasn't even really bothering with anything more than waterproof mascara for makeup. Everything else would just melt off and my hair was just going to be a mass of uncontrolled curls and there was nothing I could do about it.

The party was going to be a massive barbecue that lasted all afternoon and into the night. Ranger's family was supplying the food, and mine was supplying the booze. I suspected Ranger had already taken care of a lot of the bill so mom and dad didn't go broke trying to get most of Trenton shit-faced.

When we got to the party it was already out of control, but in a very good way. Everyone was laughing and there was a moratorium on cell phones, so people were actually speaking to each other. As an added bonus the Rangemen were going to be coming to the party in shifts so it was probably the safest park in New Jersey. I was hopeful that it would go off without any calamities, or visits from skinny ginger psychopaths.

We made the rounds, chatted with as many of the guests as we could and I ate far too much barbecue. At around four, Sally found me, while I munched on a banana popsicle, listening to one of the many new in-laws tell me about Ranger's misspent youth.

"Hey Steph!" he said.

I jumped off of the picnic table I was sitting on and gave him a hug. He was dressed pretty tamely for Sally. He was wearing a pair of short jean shorts and a black t-shirt. His pedicure was hot pink and his stiletto fingernails were killer.

"Hey, glad you could make it!"

"Wouldn't miss it!" He said, "I think Lula and I are going to bail though. She's not doing so good in the heat."

"Oh sure, where is she? I'll come say goodbye."

"In the car with the AC cranked. I told her I'd get her a popsicle for the ride home."

"You know what Sally?" I said, as we walked towards the parking lot, "You're a really good guy, I think she'd be scared as hell if it weren't for you."

"I figure it's the least I can do," he said with a shrug, "I mean she's doing all the hard work right?"

"That's what I mean," I said, "It's totally not your responsibility and yet here you are, stepping up."

"Dude, just because I was drunk and don't really remember a whole lot of that night, doesn't mean I can like pretend it didn't happen. Besides, I've always wanted to be a dad you know?"

I bit down on the popsicle taking too much and getting an instant brain freeze. Since absolutely nobody can look cool while suffering from that sort of pain, I gave into the idiocy. I flapped my hands a freaked a little until it passed. "You're the baby's father?" I squeaked.

"Well yeah, why else would I be so excited? We hooked up after we booby trapped your place. Don't worry, I had your sofa cleaned before you got back."

 _AN: I hope you enjoyed it. There will be more. My hubs is already telling me to write "Saturday" I'm going to have to let it percolate a bit before I start something. I have a whole story about Lester's sister that I've written, that is really, really, rough, but it's there. It'll find it's way on here eventually._


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